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drawlfoy · 4 years ago

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Wonders of Ohio - P.7

masterlist (catch up with the series here!)

request guidelines (yes i am taking them!)

pairing: draco x reader

request: no! this is my original idea

summary: american high school senior is in for a surprise when her family takes on a foreign exchange student with a mysterious past.

warnings: teen drinking, mentions of an armed robbery, language, a brief hospital visit, and descriptions of illness

a/n: hey. so. this is definitely where stuff starts to go down. thanks so much for waiting...i have so many more things planned for this series and i’m thrilled to see it come together the way that it is right now. thank you very much for reading and thank you for your patience!

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @icintliviinyiniilsiji @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural

word count: 6k

song recs:

murders - miracle musical

pink in the night - mitski

always, forever - cults

ice dance - ashton gleckman

enjoy!

Y/N should’ve felt cold when she awoke on the wet pavement. Despite a figure looming over her and blocking out most of the rain, the back of her neck and body was drenched in the cool water from the puddle to her right. It was easily in the mid 40s at this point in the evening, something that would ordinarily make her toes curl and her figure tremble, but it felt...different.

She felt like her insides had been scorched, like she’d downed an entire pitcher of boiling hot water. Every movement she made hurt--right down to wiggling her fingertips and her eyes. Her body was exhausted. If she hadn’t known any better, she would’ve thought that she’d just finished running a marathon in hell.

“Can you hear me?” A posh British voice cut through her musings as the figure above her came into focus.

Draco.

“Yeah. Was there a fire?” Her words left her throat painfully, scratching their way up her vocal chords.

“Er...what do you remember?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. The memories of the night slowly began trickling back--she’d done Draco’s tie, told him to watch his drink, argued with Chad about how funny he was, and walked to...Oh, yeah. The antique store. The box. The stars inside of her.

She flinched. “I fainted. I’m sorry. That was really stupid of me.”

“What?” Draco shifted back, the light from the front of the antique store catching his face. There were lines in his forehead that she’d never seen before. “Why?”

“I didn’t eat enough today,” said Y/N. Speaking was starting to feel less and less like lighting her trachea on fire. “I was really nervous and I lost my appetite. I’m an easy fainter.”

He cleared his throat. “Er, okay. Yeah. That was it. Anyways, we have to get home. You need to, uh, eat.”

“Okay.”

Y/N allowed herself to be hauled up onto her feet, swaying slightly once her full weight was on her feet. Her sense of gravity felt like it had been loosened. With every step, she felt pulled to the ground from a different part of her core.

“Steady. Don’t fall.” By some miracle, once Draco’s hands were gently guiding her shoulders, she was able to make her way to the backseat of Heather’s car before she collapsed.

“Where are we going?” asked Y/N. Despite no longer feeling like she was near death, her head was still cloudy.

“Home,” was all Draco said as he slid in on the other side of the car.

She didn’t bother putting on her seatbelt--she still felt like she was about to keel over--and rested her head on the car window. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Draco open the passenger car door for a moment, pause, shut it, and instead tug open the door across from her and slide in.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“My insides feel like they’re on fire.” Y/N winced as she tried to shift and get the weight off of her neck. “I think I’m sick.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” said Heather from the front, her eyes catching Y/N’s from the mirror. “You were just laying down in the middle of a rainstorm. Go home and take some Zi-cam or something, jesus.”

Y/N tried to chuckle in response, but it came out as a sorry squeak instead. No one made a move to further comment on the evening’s events as Heather pulled onto the freeway and began to gain speed. The sudden lurches and changes of speed in the car set Y/N’s stomach into a churning frenzy, her head growing light again.

“Draco.”

Her voice was so soft it was hardly audible--the syllables jumbled together on her lips in a quiet mess--but he immediately snapped to attention.

“What is it?”

She took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“For the love of god, at least try and hold it until we get off the freeway.”

“Shut up, Heather,” said Draco. Y/N couldn’t help but feel the slightest twinge of satisfaction as he rolled his eyes and turned his attention back on her. “Is it the motion? Are you sick from that?”

“I don’t know,” she managed.

He sighed. “Helpful.”

“Dick.”

Draco frowned at her, but she could see the slightest twinkle of amusement in his eye. “Can you move into the middle seat for me? Do you need help?”

Once Y/N had scooted over from her side, he leaned away from her and pointed up to the sunroof above them. “Go ahead and count all the lights that you can see in the sky. I promise it’ll make you feel better. Just keep your head pointed up.”

She tilted her head back. The night sky was largely gloomy, but the flickering lights of the planes that dove in and out of clouds provided some glowing dots. As she counted, Heather hit the fog strips and nearly threw her back into her original seat. She felt a warm hand wrap around her wrist and gently grip, the long fingers completely encircling it.

Y/N blinked. The nausea was gone. “What are you, a sorcerer or something?” she joked, not expecting to see Draco so frozen at the comment. “Kidding. I just feel better already. Thank you.”

He nodded and turned away to look out the window. His soft grip on her hand was long gone, and Y/N took Heather’s slightly uncoordinated driving as a cue to slide back into her seat and buckle up.

“If you really need to puke,” said Heather, “I have a Target bag back somewhere under the passenger seat. Please avoid the seats. They’re authentic vegan leather.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing.”

“Just don’t throw up, okay?”

Y/N was in Art History when it happened. The chills began, so intense and teeth-chattering that her teacher took one look at her and sent her immediately to the nurse. Sylvia offered to walk her, but she was only allowed to under the condition that she avoid all physical contact with her and sanitized each surface that Y/N touched. It was a wonder she made it to the first floor office--each step felt heavier than the last, and from the beginning she felt moments from simply passing out.

A temperature check revealed that she had a mild fever--100.3 F, to be exact--and a call home resulted in her mother’s full voicemail box and the remembrance that her parents were out for the week.

“Can someone else drive you?” Nurse Hazelwood asked as she stepped away to douse her hands in hand sanitizer. “I don’t think you should get yourself home in this state.”

After some deliberation, it was decided that Sylvia would take her home and call someone for a ride back. It was a bit overkill--but she didn’t know what else to do.

“And can you make sure Draco has a ride home today?” Y/N asked as they pulled into the driveway of the Y/L/N home.

“Stop stressing so much, dude.” Sylvia took the keys out of the ignition to give her an expectant look. “You’re sick. Go inside and make some soup or something. I’m sure your boyfriend will figure it out.”

“Now I really am gonna be sick,” said Y/N as she rolled her eyes.

The rest of her afternoon was a blur. Y/N tried to force down some chicken soup, but it took all her might to keep it from coming right back up. It was safe to say her appetite was gone.

After a failed attempt at walking up the stairs to crawl into bed, she collapsed onto the couch. The last thing she remembered was the sound of footsteps outside the front door.

Y/N hadn’t been to the hospital since she had to get stitches in middle school. Then, all she did was lie back in the chair and try to shut her eyes as the needle wove in and out of her torn thigh (bad bike accident, in case anyone was curious). But now was different.

Her eyes hurt to open, like someone had thrown soap in them and the very line where her two lids met were lined with knives. Everything inside of her was on fire--a manic, all-consuming fire that made it impossible for her to keep anything down.

The nurses and doctors were no help--not like Y/N actually had her eyes long enough to see any of them--but their voices were enough to let her know what was going on.

“Fever of 104--”

“Can’t keep anything down--”

“Severely dehydrated--”

“Tested negative for everything we tried--”

“Never seen anything like this before--”

“No viruses were detected--”

“Not mono--”

As she wove in and out of consciousness, one fact stuck in her mind: I think I might die here. Something is very wrong.

When she did dream, images of the box she picked up plagued her mind. The symbol, etched lightly into the black top, glowed menacingly in her hands. Open it, open it something around her urged, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t.

It was during one of these dreams that her world suddenly shifted back to her hospital room. She was suspended above her body, looking down at the tangle of IVs and various other wires that imprisoned her...but she wasn’t alone.

The dim lighting and darkness outside confirmed her suspicion that it was indeed late at night. A figure, tall and slim, was sitting to her left. It was whispering something unintelligible as it gently took her hand and squeezed.

If Y/N could scream, she would’ve. The sudden pull back to her body was so strong that she was yanked across the room so she just barely hovered over her corporeal form. She could feel a grip, steady and firm, wrapped around her hand as a rush of cool ran through her. Each breath, each pulse, each heartbeat pulled her back to herself. It felt like a bucket of water had been poured over--into--her, extinguishing the flames that were eating away the inside of her.

The figure’s whispering finally came to an end as she settled back into her physical body. Before she drifted off to a peaceful slumber, a familiar voice rose above the quiet whispers.

“I’m sorry.”

“Y/N!”

Her eyes shot open to see her mother, heavy eye bags and all, standing over her bed. “Hi Mo-”

“You scared me half to death!” Mrs. Y/L/N interrupted, placing her hand on her forehead. “No fever. Thank god. You know, when you were a baby, you were horribly ill with…”

Y/N sat and pretended she was listening as she relinquished in the fact that she was awake, she was here. The fire inside of her was long gone, replaced with the familiar...whatever was there before. Nothing? Maybe. Nothing was good, or at least better than the painful fire. It struck her with a sudden urgency that she had no idea what day it was, much less time. What about her homework? What about her UChicago application? Her counselor was supposed to submit her letter of rec a week ago...or a week ago from whenever she was brought to the hospital.

“Honey, are you even listening?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said.

“That’s what I thought. The food here is horrendous--of course you’re excited to go home.” Mrs. Y/L/N took her glasses off to wipe at the lens in a gesture that seemed more habitual and less effective. “You poor thing. Your father is still in New York--John simply couldn’t have him leave--but he’ll be back as soon as he can. Let’s get you out of here.”

The next few hours were a strange blur of paperwork, changes of clothes, and a bag of medication. The nurses and doctors were bewildered at her miraculous recovery and expressed this at every chance they had on her way out, reminding her to immediately seek attention if she feels anything similar again.

“What day is it?” Y/N finally asked once they were on the way home.

“Wow, you really were out of it.” Mrs. Y/L/N flicked her blinker on as she merged onto the freeway. “Sunday. You were there almost a whole week.”

“Huh? What about school? Do my teachers know? How did Draco get to school? Is he ok?”

“Of course your teachers know, hun. They’re all being very forgiving with their late work policies. As long as you’re putting effort into learning the material you missed, they have no problem letting you skip out on the homework. As for Draco...I think he’s fine. Sylvia’s family took him under their wing for the week. He’s still alive.”

And such a statement was proven when Y/N walked through the front door. Draco shot up from his seat at the living room couch the moment they locked eyes, his hands wringing back and forth.

“You’re okay.”

“You’re okay too,” she responded airily. “When I wasn’t dying I was worrying myself about how you’d do without me. I see my fears of you walking into moving traffic didn’t come true, thank God.”

His lips, tight, offered her the slightest upturn.

“Y/N, dearie, no need to harass the boy,” her mother said. “Up to your room. I’ll bring you some soup in a moment. You need to rest, young lady.”

She sent one last teasing grin at Draco before she was ushered up the steps, her mother fussing over her the entire way.

“So,” Sylvia said, crossing her legs over the other and giving Y/N a wicked look, “Consider this your last formal invitation to my Halloween party. It’s this Friday. It’s not even the night before the ED deadline. You should go.”

“I don’t know, Vy,” said Y/N. Her art history notes lay untouched in front of her as the teacher droned on about something related to how mannerism as an art style came to fame during the...Reformation? She didn’t know. “I’m kind of tired. I feel bad about leaving Draco alone, too.”

“Dude.”

“What?”

Sylvia rolled her eyes. “Will you just do us all a favor and admit that you like him? It’s getting exhausting. Just ask him to come with you.”

“You’re absolutely off your rocker if you think I’m gonna do that,” Y/N said.

“I’m just saying, you’ve done weirder things. Like almost dying from...literally nothing.”

“Hey, hey, don’t be rude. I’ll think about it but no guarantees. I don’t really think Draco is the partying type, though.”

“I’d be careful about making such a wild assumption. You never know what goes on in those posh private British schools for rich kids or wherever he went.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Her friend laughed. “No. Just an optimist.”

Y/N swung the sleeve of her cardigan at her, whacking her pretty good on the bicep. If Sylvia was bothered by it, she didn’t show it. “Fine. I’ll ask him as a friend.”

“Pansy.”

Y/N was never the type to enjoy background noise as she worked, but there was something nostalgic about hearing the identical voices of her local news anchors in the room over as she sat at the kitchen table and worked on a last minute Physics review set.

“Hey loser,” she called out as she saw a head of blond hair pass by her to get to the kettle. “Care to join me?”

Draco turned, his mouth open and ready to issue a retort before he appeared to change his mind. He’d been oddly distant lately, avoiding her in the common spaces they often saw each other and choosing to get breakfast and his evening tea at times that he knew she wouldn’t be down in the kitchen for. Perhaps that was the reason why she was sitting at the kitchen table at present, but of course she’d never admit that. Not even to herself.

“Can’t. I’m a bit busy with work.”

“Draco,” she chided. “What work is it? I can help you, you know.”

He paused for a few seconds, taking in the scatter of papers on the table and the nearly complete review sheet. “The Physics review is taking me a bit of time,” he said, his tone forced and resigned.

“Go grab it!” She grinned as his scowl deepened. “If you’re nice I’ll let you copy.”

She lost track of time as they went over his work, his pencil marks filling the page with symbols that were unfamiliar to her.

“Your handwriting is really nice,” she noted. “Like, so nice that I feel like you could really make it as a study youtuber or a study blogger or whatever. You have that potential if you want to tap into it, dude.”

“I have no idea what that is,” he said neatly as he punched an equation into her calculator.

“Fair.”

She sat still for a few more moments, watching as her study partner’s chest rose and fell with each breath he took. Sylvia’s Halloween party was just a few days away, and she needed to ask him at some point. Every time she mustered up the courage to open her mouth and hitch her breath, the words would die on her tongue.

The silence weighed heavy in the air as the words of the news anchors floated over…”multiple reports of an armed robbery….suburbs surrounding Cincinnati...cautioned to lock doors...potential link to the missing persons case…”

“Draco,” she said finally. He jolted up from his work to gaze at her. His eyes were probably the prettiest things she’d ever seen--all pale and metallic and silvery. “Uh, I’m going to this Halloween party this Friday. You should come with me, it sounds like it’ll be fun. I think that Heather will be there.”

Y/N mentally groaned at her admission to Heather’s attendance but didn’t know what else to say. She wanted him to come--even if it was so he could spend the whole time being woo-ed over by her.

“Er,” he began, twirling his pencil around his fingers. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Homework, you know.”

“Just finish it before--That’s what I’m doing.”

“I think I’m go--”

The slam of the front door made both of them jump, scattering Y/N’s long forgotten work and threatening to knock Draco’s mug over.

“Hi kids,” Mrs. Y/L/N greeted as she entered the kitchen, an armful of grocery bags in tow. “Studying?”

“Yeah,” Y/N answered. “By the way, Mom, Sylvia invited me over to her house on Friday for a sort of Halloween get together. Can I go?”

Her mother was silent for a few moments as she methodically unpacked the paper bags on the counter.

“I don’t see why not. Is Draco coming too?”

“No,” he replied before Y/N even had the chance to open her mouth.

“I don’t think you should be home alone at night, my dear,” said her mother. “Have you seen the news? There’s someone on the loose. I’d feel much better if you were with Y/N--Robert and I are going to an auction that night. We won’t be around.”

“I’ll be fi--”

“If Y/N is going, you’re going,” Mrs. Y/L/N said as she finished unloading and brushed her hands off on her thighs. Her no nonsense demeanor rarely showed itself, but when it did, she was difficult to argue with.

Y/N shrunk down in her seat as Draco sent her a sour look.

Sorry she mouthed. If he noticed, he didn’t show it.

“Remind me again why we’re walking?”

Draco’s snotty tone carried through the crisp fall air as they neared the street that Sylvia lived on.

“Because,” said Y/N, “Quite frankly, I don’t think I can get through being in an enclosed space with Heather for an entire night without being at least a little buzzed. And I’m not gonna have you drive us home.”

“Hmph.” His dress shoes, odd pointed tips and all, kicked at the fall leaves below them. His costume was literally nothing different than what he wore when he arrived--a crisp white dress shirt, an oddly cut blazer, and a weird looking green and silver pin attached to his lapel.

“If anyone asks,” she had told him from the hallway as they were getting ready to go that afternoon, “Just say you’re a corporate rat or something.”

He’d snorted at her choice of clothing--a completely dark brown set up with a picture of a shoe taped to her chest.

“I’m the shoe that that Iraqi reporter threw at Bush,” she had explained.

He just stared.

“If you aren’t having fun, please just let me know,” Y/N said as they turned one of the last corners. “We can tell her our fish died or something. Sylvia would totally understand.”

“We don’t have a fish.”

“I know, genius,” she teased, giving him a little punch. Instead of balking, he just crinkled his nose. “But she doesn’t.”

“I think she does.”

“You’re missing the point. You’ll tell me if you want to go back home, promise?”

“I want to go home.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

He grinned as they waited for Sylvia to open the door.

The next few hours were a bit of a blur. Y/N didn’t drink much at first--maybe the equivalent of 2 or 3 shots, spaced out in between a couple of sips of water--but the energy in Sylvia’s home definitely had her more buzzed than usual. There was something about her home that always felt twice as spooky, a type of underlying energy that pulsed at the seams.

To her surprise, Draco actually took a cup of whatever Sylvia offered him and downed it. She laughed when she saw him finally lower the cup as he furrowed his brow at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

His features looked softer in the dim lighting of Sylvia’s living room--all the tension that he carried in his shoulders and face seemed to be gone. When he smiled at her, it was all she could do to keep herself from disintegrating into the couch.

As the night wore on, Y/N felt herself getting progressively more tipsy, and, in her haze, she could see that Draco was going down a similar path. He was touchier than she would have expected--hanging onto her elbow or sleeve whenever Sylvia or Y/N said anything funny, not moving his leg when her thigh was pressed against his, stretching his arm out behind her and resting it on the back of the couch--and she found herself wishing she was sober enough for it to feel real. Maybe she was so drunk that she was imagining it all. Maybe she was actually asleep next to her toilet at home after throwing it all up and was just dreaming.

“Fuck!” Someone exclaimed, prompting her to look up. Abby, a girl she kind of knew from her grade, had spilled the entirety of her drink on the coffee table.

“Y/N,” Sylvia whined, “I’m too tired to get the paper towels. Will you and Draco go?”

Despite the half-hearted protests from Draco, she managed to haul him up by his arm as she pushed back the pleasure that Sylvia saw them as a sort of team, a sort of unit.

“I think she keeps the extra paper towels in her pantry,” she told him as they made their way over to the quiet part of the house. The light hanging over the kitchen island was on, but the rest of the room was bathed in darkness.

“Right he--”

Y/N froze as she saw it--or, as she would come to discover, them.

Heather and Chad stared back at them, looking much more disheveled than one is permitted simply sitting on the kitchen counter. It was hard to make it out clearly, but Heather’s cheeks looked flushed. Chad’s matched.

“In a fucking kitchen? Chad, I thought you were better than this,” Y/N said, turning and grabbing the paper towels from the cabinet behind them. “Get a room, you weirdos.”

Chad laughed, a short lived and awkward sound.

Once they were back out in the living room, Y/N tossed the paper towels to Sylvia. “I think we’re gonna head back. We have to walk, you know.”

Sylvia dramatically threw herself back onto the couch. “I suppose. Thanks for coming guys, it was nice to see you outside of class again.”

“Likewise!” Y/N called over her shoulder as she walked out of the door with Draco by her side.

The walk home was silent for the first few moments. Despite the fact that it was late October, the night was pleasantly crisp and not too cold. The only sources of illumination were the scattered street lights, casting a soft orange hue on the two.

As they turn the corner onto the main street, Y/N’s shoe caught on a crack in the pavement in a movement that would’ve sent her sprawling face-first into the cold concrete if it hadn’t been for Draco’s hand grabbing her own and yanking her back up.

“Thanks,” she said. His hands were warmer than usual despite the coolness of the air.

He just sent her a small smile as he untangled their fingers and placed his hand back into his pants pockets.

“Weird to see Chad and Heather, right?” Y/N nudged him with her shoulder. To her surprise, he nudged back.

“I guess. I thought it was obvious, though.”

“What?! No way.”

“Are you blind? Heather’s been all over Chad,” he said.

“Are you? I thought she was obsessed with you!”

“No, definitely not.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, turning to look at him. The dim glow of the streetlights made his hair look almost like a halo. “She wouldn’t leave you alone.”

��Dunno.” Draco shrugged. It was then that Y/N remembered how much he’d had that night.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re probably not in the right mindset to be analyzing other people right now,” said Y/N.

His lips twitched upwards. “No, no, it’s ok. I’m fine. I just couldn’t be bothered over the whole ordeal. Entirely uninspiring, I think.”

“You’re such a nerd, even when you’re drunk,” teased Y/N. “It’s honestly a wonder that you spent the first month near failing physics.”

“Sod off.” He nudged her again, hard enough to make her sway. “You’re the one who’s still an insufferable smartass. I figured drinking would make you more tolerable.”

“Don’t be a dick,” she muttered as she shoved him back. “You know you love me.”

He froze in the middle of his retaliatory shove, his hand rested on her forearm.

“Sarcasm, king,” said Y/N. “I don’t mean it. I wouldn’t blame you if I were right, though. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m quite the commodity.”

“Oh, yes, most certainly.” His tone was dripping in faux genuity as he gave her a gentle push.

As he was doing this, Y/N grabbed the offending arm and took him down with her, landing in the soft garden bush in poor Ms. McCoyle’s front yard.

“Gotcha!” she cheered as he frowned from his spot on top of her. It took all her might to ignore the fact that his face was inches away. “It’s just my smart physics brain at work.”

“Your neighbor is gonna kill us.”

“She can try.”

Draco sat up, grabbing her hand and hauling her to her feet. She took the opportunity to hang onto the sleeve of his coat as a sneaking suspicion overtook her that things wouldn’t be like this again without the clever excuse of intoxication.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

Y/N let go of his sleeve to look up at his face in confusion. She followed his eyes, suddenly hardened with an emotion she couldn’t quite place, to their house at the end of the street.

“You shut the door behind us, right?” Draco asked.

“And locked it.”

Their front door, hanging wide open and swinging in the breeze, told a different story.

Sobering up was easy once the police sirens showed up and searched their house. Y/N could tell the responding sheriff knew they’d been drinking, but since they weren’t driving and were speaking clearly, he didn’t mention anything.

“We’ve searched the house,” he told them as they sat together outside on the curb. “It looks like it fits the profile of the other armed burglaries in the area, but nothing was taken this time. The bedroom that looks out into the garden is completely trashed--it seems like the suspect was looking through your things for something. The bedroom across the hall was displaced a bit, but nothing compared to the first.” He took another look at his notes, adjusting the thick rimmed glasses that were perched on his nose. “You kids are lucky. Whoever this is means business. There’s unfortunately not much we can do except set up a patrol to watch over the street for now. Please give us a call if you see anything or hear anything.”

They nodded. Y/N had placed a call to their parents while they waited a safe distance from the home for the police to arrive. She’d been shaking as she pressed their number into her phone, and Draco, to his credit, rested his hand on her thigh.

“We’ll be fine,” he’d said before retracting it. “Don’t worry.”

Draco seemed considerably calm for someone experiencing a home break in in a foreign country as they made their way into the house. The first responders had left the lights on, and the wash of LED bulbs did nothing to hide the disturbance of her bedroom. Everything of hers was thrown into the middle of the room from her drawers, closet, and dresser. Her laptop, open and plugged in, was left completely untouched.

“Draco,” she said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends, what is it?”

Y/N noted that he was getting considerably paler as they stood in her doorway. “I don’t think I can sleep here. Knowing what happened. Especially when it’s still a disaster.”

“Understandable.”

His features looked hardened again, like he’d gone through a filter of seriousness. She decided that this was probably her last chance to ask for any act of intimacy before the effects of alcohol dissipated in his system. “And I don’t want to sleep alone.”

“Er...Oh.” He stared at her. “What?”

“I know that this is really awkward, but can I, like, sleep on your floor or something? Just for tonight.” When she swallowed her throat felt painfully dry. “I don’t snore or anything. It’ll be like I’m not even there.”

Draco sucked in a long breath, casting his eyes up to the ceiling. Y/N wished she knew what he was thinking about. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Thank you thank you thank you,” she sang, darting into her room to grab a blanket and a pillow as he watched wordlessly by the doorframe.

The walk to his room was dead silent except for their sounds of shock when they saw the broken glass in the middle of the floor.

“I think that was from the picture frame,” Y/N said as she carefully walked into the middle of the room. Sure enough, a framed photo of her and their late dog that had been left on the wall was face down on the carpet.

“Is this when you ask me to sleep in my bed, too?” quipped Draco as he sidestepped the wreckage and sat on the opposite side of the queen mattress.

“Um...we can make a pillow barrier so we don’t touch.”

He rolled his eyes and tossed his blazer over his chair as he took off his shoes and buttonup, leaving nothing but his undershirt and dress pants. “I’m going to get changed. If you’re asleep before I get back, this is me saying goodnight.”

With that, he grabbed something from his dresser and walked into his bathroom, Y/N ripped off the picture of the shoe and placed her phone on the bedside table. Before she knew it, she was completely passed out.

It was barely dawn when she next woke up. Her head was heavy--no doubt the beginnings of a hangover--but she’d never felt more electrified.

A small huff prompted her to look to her left where Draco was just a few movements away from her. He was very clearly still sleeping, each breath leaving his lips with a whisper. His hand, draped over the covers, was millimeters away from touching her. The pink of the sunrise made his hair, now ruffled and sticking up in the side, glitter in the light. She resisted the urge to reach out and brush it away from his face.

Y/N lay there, admiring the boy sleeping next to her, until the urgency of her situation struck her. She was absolutely parched, and if she wanted to mitigate the damage she’d already done, it was in her best interest to drink a glass of water and take 4 Ibuprofen.

With a sigh, she quietly slid out from under Draco’s covers and made her way to her room, careful to avoid the glass scattered all about. She knew she had a packet of Ibuprofen somewhere in one of her dresser drawers.

The pile in her room was bigger than she remembered. She began by just throwing her clothes that had been on the ground onto her bed, sorting through everything in rough categories. When this proved unhelpful, she turned to the mini pile by her door which, to her surprise, had a few sweatshirts that definitely weren’t hers.

Draco she thought absentmindedly as she combed through the pile. Aha. A small green pouch, just like the one she kept her over the counter medications in.

Her hands struggled to undo the tie--Did she normally knot it like that?--as she admired the lining. She never noticed that the edges had silver thread stitched in.

Once she finally opened it up, she grabbed her water bottle and prepared to be faced with a variety of pill bottles as she tipped it over; however, what came out was very different.

A collection of letters. Namely, Draco’s. She knew it was wrong, but he was sleeping, and every letter looked official, stamped with a seal and etched with some sort of crest. They couldn’t have been that personal.

After a bit of bargaining, she decided to open one. If it was personal, she made the deal with herself to put it away and never speak of it again.

The parchment was heavy and clearly expensive. Her hands were shaking as she unfolded the first one, feeling guilty the whole way.

Foreign words flooded her vision. It wasn’t like the letter was written in a foreign language--but there were so many terms she didn’t understand.

Death eater...Voldemort...Crimes against the ministry...Conspiracy against Dumbledore...Hogwarts-sanctioned punishment...

She read on until a word popped out that made sense--Magic. And there it was again--Magic. Wizard. Magic.

Swallowing hard, she shoved the letter back into the envelope and opened one more. This one was much more coherent.

“Dear Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy:

It has been made apparent to us that, while serving the punishment of your accused crimes, you have unlawfully used magic (namely, a Glamour spell) in front of a muggle. Consider this to be your first strong warning. One more slip up and the Ministry will be forced to reconsider your dropped sentence of Azkaban.

Sincerely and warmly,

The Ministry of Magic -- Justice Sector”

What. What the fuck. What the fuck.

Her racing mind was put to a screeching halt at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her.

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x oc #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy

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snelbz · 4 years ago

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Lost Time {15}

A/N: As always, co-written with my better half, @tacmc.

Elain awoke to steady beeping and dim light. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, for her memories of the day to be recollected.

Lucien had come to her work.

They fought.

He left.

She didn’t remember anything after that.

Now, she was hooked up to a heart monitor, a blood pressure band around her arm, and IV just below it. The night sky sparkled outside of the window, and she found herself wondering how long she’d been out. She looked around, thankful to find that she wasn’t alone.

Azriel was asleep in a chair, his chin propped on his fist, his mouth hanging wide open. His feet were propped up on a rolling stool, one ankle crossed over the other.

As if sensing her eyes on him, he stirred and his eyes opened. He was up before she ever had a chance to try and speak, cradling her face.

“It’s okay,” he breathed, “I’m right here, Lainey. I’m right here.”

Voice a rasp, she asked, “What happened?”

He chuckled, but tears were filling his eyes. “I was really hoping you could tell us that. You went into shock.”

She blinked.

Her ring. Lucien had pawned her ring.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. That ring was the most beautiful thing he’d ever given her, before she’d had Novan, but she couldn’t tell him it was gone. Better for him to assume it’d been gone for years.

“Lucien came by with some of my stuff,” she said, not a lie, but also not the full truth. “We just...got into it.”

Azriel tensed. “Got into it?”

“We fought,” she said, and he frowned.

She was fully aware by the look in his eye that he wanted an answer that held a little more of an explanation, but he didn’t push, whether it was because of her current state or because he didn’t feel it was his business, she didn’t know. She was grateful for it, though, whatever it was, because it meant she didn’t have to go into her and Lucien’s fight. “Water?”

He was instantly up on his feet, going to fill up a little paper cup with water. She was reaching out for it, but he never took his hand off of it as it touched her lips.

She tried speaking again. “Where is Donovan?”

“He’s at my mom’s,” he said, shaking his head.

She laughed softly. “Silly of me to ask.”

Azriel smiled and said, “I wondered why you didn’t just assume,” and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She smiled softly but he tilted her chin towards him when she tried to look away. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I am, I just-.” A shuddering breath. “I learned something unexpected today and it just was...tough to process. I’m okay, I promise.”

Elain leaned forward and softly pressed her lips against his. When she pulled away, he looked uncertain. “Elain-.”

“Please don’t ask questions,” she whispered. “We can talk about it later, okay?”

He nodded, slowly, and kissed her, once again to save him from asking any more questions. A nurse came in, smiling brightly once she saw Elain awake.

“Hello, my dear!” she said, closing the door behind her. “I’m glad to find you sitting up. How are you feeling?”

“Weak,” she admitted.

The nurse nodded. “Well, that’s to be expected. Keep resting, try to sleep a little more. While you’re awake, I’d like to take a few samples so we can run some tests, make sure there are no other underlying reasons as to why you fainted.”

Elain nodded, nibbling on her bottom lip. “That’s fine.” She rolled up her sleeve and held out her arm, turning to Azriel. “What time is it?”

He yawned, glancing at his watch. “Just a bit before four.”

“Four?” She repeated, looking from him to the nurse currently prepping her. “I’ve been out for…” she paused and did some mental math. “Nearly seventeen hours?”

“You hit your head when you fell,” she explained.

It was then that Elain realized that, yes, she did have a pretty solid headache, and she reached up to touch her forehead. There was a band of gauze wrapped around her forehead.

“It’s not bad,” Azriel whispered. “You hit a corner of one of the tables on the way down, though.”

Elain hesitated. “I have stitches?”

“Only a few,” the nurse said. “You should be able to get them out next week.”

Elain nodded, slowly, letting all the little details register fully.

“I’m going to take these samples back,” the nurse said, holding up three little vials of blood - Azriel had to look away. “There’s a cup for a urine sample in the bathroom. Do it when you can, then let me know. I’ll come back soon to check your vitals.”

Elain smiled. “Thank you.”

The nurse smiled in return before hurrying off.

Azriel was looking at her. She was looking anywhere but him, because she knew he wouldn’t let this go. She breathed, “Az…”

“I need you to tell me what happened today, Elain,” he said, voice hard.

She shook her head. “It was nothing, Az, he was lashing out because he was hurt. And I- I reacted. He was trying to get a rise out of me and it worked.”

His hazel eyes were hard. “Did he touch you?”

“What?” Her eyes widened, shocked that he’d even assume that.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked, standing up and beginning to pace. “Did he come onto you? Did he say something rude? What happened, Elain?”

She couldn’t tell him about the ring, but she also couldn’t handle him being mad at her.

“I-.” She hesitated, a thousand different lies running through her mind. “Yes, he came onto me, told me I was making a big mistake, and I got pissed. But, no, he didn’t touch me, and he left, Az. Okay? Drop it, please.”

The way his jaw locked told Elain he definitely was not going to drop it. “I’ve got to go.”

He had only taken one step before Elain said, “No, you will stay here with me, and if you leave me here to find Lucien at four in the morning, I will never forgive you.”

Azriel froze, but he didn’t like that response. “He can’t treat you like that.”

“He left when I asked him to,” she said. “He said his piece, we screamed at each other, he tried to tell me he knew what was best for me, I told him to get out and he left. I passed out after he left.”

He had turned back to her. “Right after he left?”

She shook her head. “Not immediately after, maybe a minute or so. I remember calling you, telling you to hurry and then...nothing.”

“Nothing?” He asked.

Closing her eyes, she repeated, “Nothing.”

Azriel took a deep breath and sighed, walking back towards the bed and pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek, careful of the tender spot above her brow. “Okay.”

After calming down, Elain did as the nurse he instructed and filled and left the sample cup in the bathroom. They called her back and checked her vitals, seeing that everything was reading mostly normal, save for an increased heart rate. Once they received her tests back, she’d be allowed to go home, but until then, they wanted her to try and rest.

It took very little convincing for Azriel to climb up in the uncomfortable hospital bed with Elain, to let her lay her head on his chest, tucking her in close. She drifted off to sleep almost immediately, the meds knocking her out cold, but Azriel laid there, his cheek pressed against the top of her head as he watched the sun come up.

He wasn’t going to push her. He wouldn’t press her. He’d let her come to him with whatever took place with Lucien today, but he knew she’d lied to him, at least about one thing.

She hadn’t passed out after she called him.

No, she’d made one more phone call before that, after they’d spoken.

He knew who it had been with. He just didn’t know what it had been about.

————————————————————————

Azriel sat at his mother’s kitchen table and stared at the sheet of paper in his hand, declaring that his paternity test concluded that he was, in fact, Donovan’s father. Rhysand had brought it to him an hour before, and Azriel had hardly taken his eyes off of it. He was going to be added to Novan’s birth certificate. It was becoming official.

He couldn’t help the tears that lined his eyes.

“Everyone’s coming over for dinner,” Miryam said, stepping into the kitchen. “We’re going to celebrate. It’s a good day.”

Azriel nodded, hearing Novan’s laughter from the living room, where he was relaxing on the couch with Elain, watching a movie. He cleared his throat, “When will they be showing up?”

“Soon,” Miryam said, smiling fondly. “You’re crying.”

He looked up at her, smiling broadly. “I know.”

She sat down in the chair next to him and took his hand. He rubbed his thumb over the back of hers. “Your father knew you’d come back one day.”

He blinked. “What?”

“He always knew you’d find your way back here. He just didn’t know how long it’d take.” She cleared her throat and for the first time since he’d been home, he heard her voice wavering as she said, “I just wish he could have seen what an amazing father you’re becoming.”

Azriel’s eyes closed, but not in any attempt to stop the tears. He knew there was no hope of that. So he leaned over and wrapped his arms around his mother, wishing he had been around to do it more in the past few years.

“Meme, may I have some juice, please?” Azriel and Miryam turned toward where Novan’shead peeked over the couch. When he saw Azriel’s tears, he hopped off the couch and ran over to him. He crawled up in his lap and asked, “You still crying happy tears, daddy?”

Azriel laughed, quietly. “Yeah, I can’t seem to stop.”

His little fingers reached up and brushed along Azriel’s tanned cheeks, wiping the tears away. “Don’t cry, daddy.”

Daddy. It wasn’t long ago that he didn’t even know he was a dad, and now he couldn’t imagine life any differently. He brushed Novan’s hair back off his forehead as he chuckled. “I’ll try my best. You know, your uncles will be here soon, you should probably go warn your mom.”

Novan grinned. “Yes! Okay. What about my juice?”

“Meme will get you juice,” Miryam said, rising to her feet after she kissed Novan’s forehead. “Not too much, though, we’re having a big dinner tonight.”

“And cake?” Novan asked.

Azriel laughed, “Yes, bud. And cake.”

“Yes!” He hopped off of Azriel’s lap and hurried back into the living room. He chuckled as his eyes followed him and heard Elain’s Oof! as he jumped onto her lap from over the arm of the couch.

It had been three days since they’d come home from the hospital. It was Azriel’s first chance to see Nesta, to ask what their phone call was about, but Elain was almost back to her cheerful self. She was still tired, but he knew she didn’t want to worry Novan. The sweet woman who owned the antique store had come by the house last night and brought them a plate of fresh baked cookies - which Novan has his eyes on all night - and told Elain to take a week or two off. She’d protested, but had ultimately accepted the kindness from her boss.

Azriel was grateful that Elain had such great people in her life.

Miryam began fluttering about the kitchen, after giving Novan his precious juice, and Azriel kept trying to help, but she just kept chuckling. “I love you, honey, but you are hazardous to have in the kitchen.”

Azriel scoffed, pouring himself a glass of bourbon. “That’s not true.”

“You burnt spaghetti once, sweetheart.”

Azriel screwed the lid back on the bottle and took a sip before he said, “I was seventeen, that’s not fair.”

He was kicked out of the kitchen soon after. It was okay, though, because it meant that he got to go snuggle on the couch with Elain and Novan before their family began to arrive. Nesta and Cassian were the first, Nesta plopping down in the armchair in the living room as their movie finished up.

“Aunt Nes,” Novan began, propping his little chin on his fists. “Your tummy is getting big.”

“That’s because your baby cousin is growing in here,” she explained, lovingly rubbing her hand down it. “Just like you grew in your mommy’s tummy.”

Novan turned to Elain. “I was in your tummy? How’d I get in there?” His eyes grew even wider. “How’d I get out?”

Elain and Azriel both froze and Nesta, realizing the likely incoming conversation she’d caused, was about to get out of the chair, when Cassian entered the room and said, “It’s a boy!”

Elain and Az were on their feet, looking from Nesta and Cassian. Elain asked, “You found out? When?! And you didn’t tell me?”

Nesta, with a look of genuine confusion, said, “We haven’t found out, I have no idea what he’s talking about.”

“I’m talking about Az,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Because he’s officially a dad.”

Azriel rolled his eyes as Cassian pulled him in close for a hug, and Nesta groaned. “Oh, no, it’s too early for the dad-jokes to start.”

“It’s never too early.” Cassian winked at his fiancée as he ruffled Azriel’s hair, which earned him a scowl.

“Uncle Cass!” Novan said, jumping up on the couch. “Meme got me a new train, wanna see?”

“Of course I do,” Cassian answered, as if the tiny toy train was the most majestic thing on the planet. With a wide grin, Novan hurried away to get it.

Feyre and Rhysand came in a minute later, the latter holding a cake. “Close your eyes! I’ve been instructed to get this to the kitchen without anyone seeing. Little did I know you all would be standing directly in front of the door.”

“The one time we don’t walk through the back door,” Feyre muttered, and Elain chuckled.

Rhysand hurried through the house with the cake as Feyre hugged Azriel, then Elain, just as Novan came running back through the house with a little toy train.

He took a tumble right as he came around the corner and everyone froze, waiting to see if the fall would result in a meltdown or if he’d hop right back up and keep going. It seemed Novan was having a rough day, too.

He sat back on his bottom and looked at the carpet burn on his knee and then the tears began. He forgot the train on the floor and was up and running towards his family. Miryam and Elain were both ready to scoop him up and dry his tears, but he passed them and stood in front of Azriel. He wailed, “Da- Daddy, I hurt my knee.”

There was no hesitation as he picked his son up and said, “Let me see, bud.”

Novan moved his hand, where it was holding his knee, and the smallest of carpet burns made its appearance.

“Ouch,” Azriel agreed, kissing Novan’s forehead. “How about a Bandaid? Bandaids always help.”

Novan nodded, his bottom lip still wobbling as Azriel carried him into the kitchen and sat him down on the counter.

“You gotta remember to walk,” Azriel sang as he dug through the medicine cabinet.

“I was excited,” Novan replied, wiping at his eyes.

“I know,” Azriel said, laughing softly as he found the box of Bandaids and took one out that had Spiderman on it. He carefully put it over the carpet burn. “Even when we’re excited, though, we have to walk when we’re inside. Right?”

Novan nodded, and then his eyes caught something over Azriel’s shoulder. Azriel took Novan off the counter and turned around to see that Novan had found the cake, and remembering Rhysand’s earlier warning, he quickly hurried out of the kitchen. “Don’t tell Meme we saw the cake,” Azriel mumbled.

Novan’s hands flew over his mouth as he giggled.

They rejoined the family in the living room, Azriel sitting next to Elain, and Donovan took off, walking quickly, to retrieve his forgotten train and show his uncle. Before they knew it, it was time to eat and Cassian and Azriel carried in plates full of fresh from the grill burgers and hot dogs.

Azriel had been attempting to catch Nesta’s eye all afternoon, but whether it was intentional or not, he could never seem to find a moment to pull her to the side. He’d find a moment at some point, he was sure, but he didn’t want to let his curiosity ruin a perfect day.

Novan was eating a hamburger that was the size of his head when he asked, “Mommy, does this mean I get a second birthday every year?”

Everyone laughed as Elain said, “Not quite, buddy.”

“But, it’s a special day,” Azriel said, eyeing Novan next to him at the table.

“Because we eat cake?” he asked. “Thank you for cake, Meme.”

Miryam laughed. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“Cake is good,” Azriel agreed. “But, it’s special because now I get to legally be your daddy.” Novan’s brows scrunched together, and Azriel realized that such a concept would be confusing to a four-year-old. “Nevermind,” he went on, chuckling. “Today is special because I love you, yeah? This will forever be our special day, bud.”

His hazel eyes lit up. “Just for us?”

Azriel couldn’t help but smile. “Just for us, but don’t you think we should let everyone celebrate?”

His eyes narrowed. “We share the cake?”

Azriel chuckled and kissed his head. “You’d have to share the cake regardless.”

Donovan sighed dramatically. “Fine. As long as it’s our day though. I’m glad you’re my daddy”

He dove back into his burger, not noticing that almost everyone else around the table had tears in their eyes.

Especially Rhys and Feyre.

————————————————————————

Once the cake had been cut and Donovan crashed from sugar, Rhys and Az took a minute to step out onto the back porch.

“So…” Azriel awkwardly began. How exactly was he supposed to pick back up the conversation about his brother’s infertility?

“You’re wondering about the results from Yrene?” Rhysand guessed. A small smile had appeared on his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Azriel nodded. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, I was just-.”

The door opened again and Cassian stepped out, a beer in his hand. “What’d I miss?”

Azriel frowned as Rhysand ran a hand through his hair. “I, uh, met with Yrene. Feyre and I have been struggling to have kids for a while, so we had some tests run.”

Cassian’s face fell as he stood by his brothers. “I didn’t even know you guys were trying.”

Rhysand nodded. “Yeah… And, it turns out, Feyre’s fine. It’s me.” His voice went so quiet that the words could hardly be heard.

“Is there...nothing you can do?” Azriel asked.

Rhys shook his head. “Not really, because as of right now, we’re doing everything right. I just have a, uh.” He shook his head and laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “I have a low sperm count.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Cass asked, leaning against the wooden rail. “You can cum but there’s no swimmers?”

Az rolled his eyes and said, “It means he has less than you and I.” He looked back to Rhys. “Which that’s not a definitive no, right? It could still happen at some point, in some way?”

Rhys was shaking his head. “Yes, but it’s not likely to happen in the traditional way.” He sighed. “They’re suggesting we try implanting it directly into Feyre’s uterus, but it’s expensive. Money isn’t a problem, I just don’t want to put Feyre through that for nothing if it doesn’t take.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Have you talked about a surrogate anymore?”

“I’d fuck her for you,” Cass interjected.

Rhys said, “Dude, no,” at the same time Azriel said, “Cassian,”‘and shook his head.

“What?” He asked. “It’s cheaper than paying someone else to do it with a big ass syringe, it would feel good for Feyre, and the kid would still look like the rest of the family.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes, completely ignoring Cassian, and said, “We’ve discussed it. She doesn’t want to use a surrogate. She wants to try the intrauterine implant method if we try anything.” He sighed and said, “And please don’t ever tell Feyre that you offered to fuck her.”

“Do you want my kid?” Cass asked.

“No, Cass, I don’t want your kid.”

“Cause you can have this one,” Cassian went on, sipping from his bottle. “Nesta and I will just make another.”

Azriel gawked, but Rhysand was shoving Cassian in the chest, unable to stop the genuine, little smile that had formed. “Fuck you.”

Cassian laughed, and pulled Rhysand in for a hug by the back of his head. “I’m sorry, man. Something will work out though, you know? You two were meant to be parents.”

He nodded his head, and smiled sadly, though Az could tell it was genuine. “I know we will. We just...never thought that it would be us, you know? You hear all of these stories about people having trouble conceiving, but you also hear about so many accidental pregnancies,” Azriel’s cheeks heated, though he knew it was unnecessary. Rhys went on, “So when you find out that you are the reason you can’t make a kid…” He shook his head. “Makes me feel like a piece of shit. Like I’m not that man I promised her I’d be.”

“Feyre loves you whether you can or can’t, just the same,” Azriel said, quietly. “And just because you can’t make a kid the traditional way won’t make it any less special. We all find different routes to parenthood, it seems. Some routes are harder than others. Never doubt yourself, though. You’re a good man, Rhys, and you’ll be a great husband.”

Rhysand nodded, and clapped Azriel on the shoulder. For a moment, they all stood there in a comfortable silence, dwelling on all that had been said, fully aware there was not much else that could be said to comfort him, but hoping their presence would be enough.

————————————————————————

After Donovan went down for late nap, he didn’t wake up for the rest of the night. A little after eight, everyone had packed up and left, and when they got back to their house, Azriel took Novan to his room and tucked him. He wasn’t sure how long he sat on the floor by his bed, gently brushing his hair off his face, watching him sleep. But he just wanted to be there. To bask in the peaceful moment of loving his son.

His heart was aching for Rhys. He was doing everything he could to fulfill their dream for Feyre but sometimes, there was only so much that could be done.

With a sigh, Az got to his feet and pressed a soft kiss to Novan’s forehead, before cracking the door shut and stepping into the hall. The sound of water had him heading into their bedroom, and the adjoining bathroom, where he found Elain soaking in the tub.

“Well, someone looks relaxed,” he said, pulling the small stool stashed under the vanity to the edge of the tub and resting his arms on the edge. He propped his chin on his arms and glanced down into the water, where Elain was blissfully naked. He glanced up at her and wiggled his eyebrows.

She laughed quietly and said, “Down, boy.”

He smiled broadly and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Well. It’s official. You have yourself a certified baby daddy.”

She laughed as she reached a wet hand out of the tub and brushed back his hair. “Sure do.”

“We’re a family now,” he breathed. “I mean, we’ve always been a family, but...now we can laminate it.”

Elain’s head fell back as she laughed. “You want to laminate our son’s birth certificate? I was just going to put it in the filing cabinet along with everything else.”

He grinned. “Fair enough. I’m just...excited.”

“Good,” she said, quietly. “Me too, for life with you. Our family.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. “You look happy.”

“I am happy.”

“You’re beautiful when you’re happy,” he breathed, greeting her with the softest of kisses.

“Hush,” she breathed, blushing, kissing him back, unable to pull the smile from her face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he smiled, and looked down into the water again. Thanks to the oils, salts, bath bomb and whatever else she’d put in the water, he could make out her form, but couldn’t explicitly see her body. “You know, it’s been a long day, I was thinking about taking a bath, too.”

Elain chuckled and asked, “Really?”

Azriel shook his head, “No, not really, but I’ll never pass up an opportunity to be naked and wet with you.” She laughed and he kissed her cheek, heading for the bedroom. “I’ll be back with a bottle of wine and two glasses.”

She sank down into the water a little bit lower and said “Just one glass.”

He turned back, unable to read her expression, and said, “Why just one?”

His face made her chuckle and she said, “Pregnant women can’t drink, Az.”

“Well, I know, but what does that-.” His words broke off as the realization of her words hit him, as her grin spread wide. His voice was just a whisper as he asked, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

She shook her head, excitedly, unable to stop the melodic laughter that fell from her lips. “I’m pregnant, Az.”

His mouth fell open, and for a moment he was frozen in place, but then he was running toward the bathtub and throwing himself into the water, clothes and all. Tears were running down his face as he cupped Elain's cheeks, his knees on both sides of her waist, and kissed her lips.

“You’re serious?” He breathed, lips still on hers.

She nodded and Azriel noticed her tears as well. “They ran it with all of my tests when I was in the hospital. And it came up positive.” She reached down to the floor outside the tub and held up the little plastic stick. “I’m ten and a half weeks.”

“Ten and a half weeks,” he repeated, his heart completely full. “A baby.”

She nodded, laughing as he pressed his forehead against hers. “Don’t go running off this time.”

“Not a chance,” he whispered, and kissed her, showing her just how deep his loyalty ran.

#snelbz lost time #elriel #snacmc #snelbz tacmc collab #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

167 notes · View notes

surveysonfleek · 3 years ago

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1616.

MULTIMEDIA What did you think was the worst movie of all time? theres so many out there but the most recent bad movie i watched was brazen which was on netflix If you could be any celebrity, who would you be and why? rihanna, duh Ever buy a bootlegged VHS or DVD? If so, of what? haha yes, i miss those days Would you rather watch movies at home or in the theater?: home What kind of food do you buy at the theater?: i usually have dinner beforehand so i dont feel the need to buy overpriced cinema food lol What artist do you love to sing along with?: riri What artist do you think has no right to be as popular as they are?: theres no one out there that i rly hate tbh but i cant believe chris brown is still as famous as he is after that incident What’s a song that makes you cry? (come on, there has to be one): dance with my father - luther vandross What movie makes you laugh so hard your stomach hurts?: white chicks and mean girls Are there any dance/action/fighting scenes from a movie you can perform?: no lol Is there any movie you can quote word for word?: white chicks and mean girls

LOVE AND DATING. What do you think of kissing on the first date?: im not against it Have you ever experienced unrequited love?: no Have you ever dreamt about your crush/significant other?: all the time Was it a good dream, or a nightmare?: normal dreams. i always have boring dreams as if i were living my daily life lol Do the words “I Love You” scare you?: no Have you ever wanted to ask someone out but didn’t? Why?: no Have you ever been on a blind date?: nope

THE PAST. What was your favorite childhood toy?: this big mickey mouse with a string u pull at the back and itd say phrases lol Did you play with kids in your neighborhood when you were little?: yup! How many times have you moved?: 3. What were your “awkward years”?: preteen years for sure Did you have a security blanket/stuffed animal you always slept with?: my security blanket as a kid was smelling my mums hair haha What was your favorite childhood TV show?: arthur and rugrats Movie?: aladdin Did you have lots of new toys or hand-me-downs?: new because i was the firstborn lol Is there anything you would change about your childhood if you could? nope. i had a great childhood

THE FUTURE. Do you want to live in the same town for the rest of your life?: as long as my family and friends are still closeby then yeah Do you worry about the future a lot?: i do What’s the next big event you’re counting down to?: getting our house What kind of technology advances are you expecting?: smart cars hopefully being more affordable Do you believe in a date for the end of the world?: nah, i feel like itll happen when we least expect it How do you think it will come about, anyway? no idea lol

YOUR THOUGHTS. Do you believe in all the teachings of your religion?: haha no If you could go back in time for 1 week, what date would you return to?: if it doesnt change anything in the future, id definitely relive any of the times ive been overseas What do you feel is the best source of venting sorrow or anger?: sleep if im honest Do you believe in magic?: no but i still love it Are computers annoying or helpful?: both Does laundry really need to be separated into colors and whites?: not sure but ill do it anyway lol What’s the best place to meet new people?: through friends tbh. and work Can the future be predicted?: like the weather and shit, yeah haha Why do you fill out these surveys?: to kill time and coz i cant sit still while watching tv

FAVORITES. Attraction at a zoo/carnival: carnivals are all about the food! Brand of peanut butter: i hardly eat peanut butter Planet: earth Foreign food: korean bbq Way to torture someone: tickling Flavor of muffin: banana Toothpaste brand: colgate Piece of memorabilia in your room: my corkboard, its filled with layers and layers of photos, concert tickets, key rings, travel stuff etc Writing utensil: gel pens Extracurricular activity: sleep Person to pick on: haha no one

#survey #surveys #quiz #bored #questions

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adverb-slut · 5 years ago

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Empty Wallets and Empty Stomachs (Fanfiction)

Hiiiii, another AO3 repost from me, mainly ‘cause I’m trying to spread out my stuff on both platforms. This is a short four-chapter story that I’m going to post all in one go (that’s why it’s so long) since I think it’s hard to navigate between different chapters on Tumblr. If you’d like to read this story on AO3, click here. I apologize in advance for the really bad title; I just couldn’t think of anything better at the time.

Title:

Empty Wallets and Empty Stomachs

Summary:

No summary, really. Just chilling with Mammon and Beel and MC and being dumb. Mostly just MC and Mammon go shoppin’ and you cook with Beel. Other shenanigans ensue.

Genre:

Humor/Fluff/Slice of Life

Rating:

Word Count:

6645

Additional Note:

Sorry to take too much of your time up with the super long stores, but again, on AO3, this is formatted and was originally meant to be a four-chapter story! :)

Chapter 1

“ … and that, class, is the true nature of the Twin Paradox. As you can see—” Your professor, a gangly demon with round glasses and a haircut that reminds you vaguely of the Backstreet Boys, is promptly interrupted by the low gong of the school bell, signaling that class is over.

Upon hearing this, you whip out your D.D.D and make your way to the door as your teacher calls, “Don’t forget to read Chapter Seven, Section Nine through Twelve of your Physics IV: Mind Over Matter textbook for class on Wednesday!”

You scroll through the messages on your Chat app, doing your best to keep one eye on your D.D.D and one eye on the sea of demons bustling to get to their next class.

Lucky for you, Physics is your last class of the day. As you make your way to the House of Lamentation, you notice that you have a missed call dating back an hour ago from Mammon.

Feeling it’s too late to call back, you decide to send a text instead.

Mammon MC: You called?

MC: What’s up?

You see an ellipse bubble pop up immediately, indicating that Mammon is typing.

Mammon: MC HOW DARE YOU MISS MY CALL

Mammon: You can miss everyone else’s calls, but not *mine*, got it?

Mammon: I have important things to say, y’know!

You feel a smile grow on your face and shake your head.

MC: Important things? Like what?

Mammon: WELL, it just so happens that I get paid today!

You stare at the message in confusion. Paid? Before you can question his statement, you remember that Mammon frequently did various modeling jobs to make cash. It was supposed to be a way to earn a little spending money and pay off his debts, but unfortunately for his creditors, the latter very rarely happened.

However, you are still unsure as to why Mammon is telling you this. You send a confused-looking sticker.

Mammon, surprisingly, doesn’t respond right away. You close out of the Chat app and begin to put your D.D.D away. As you fumble around for a pocket to put it in, you crash headfirst into someone.

Oh, crap, you think. The demons at R.A.D normally don’t bother you, but that’s because you usually don’t headbutt them accidentally.

“I’m so sorry—” you start, but your apology is cut short as the demon turns around. “Beel! I apologize; I didn’t see you there!”

Beelzebub pivots to face you. “Oh, hi, MC,” he says, greeting you with a melancholy nod.

You cock your head curiously. The sixth-born demon’s face is set into a sorrowful frown, and the five-pound bag of Scummy Bears that he’s holding is only half empty. “Is something wrong?”

He looks down and shakes his head. “Nothing you need to worry about.” Beel looks back at you. “Are you going back to the House of Lamentation?”

You want to ask him some more questions, but at the same time, don’t want to pry. “Yep!”

“Let’s walk together, then.” He flashes you an unconvincing smile as the two of you begin to make your way down the R.A.D halls.

Unsure of what to say, you keep silent, smiling internally as Beel walks slower than his usual long strides so that you can keep up with him. By now, most students have either gone to their dorms or have made it to their last few classes; the only sounds that echo through the hallway are you and Beel’s footsteps.

You keep your silence until the two of you near a trash can in the hall, where Beel dumps what remains of his bag of Scummy Bears into the garbage.

You gasp and your eyes widen. What in the Devildom just happened?

Beel puts a hand over his taut stomach in response to your astonished look. He peers at his feet as he explains, “My stomach feels queasy. I can’t eat right now.”

In the few months that you have known Beel, you can hardly remember a time where he has turned down food, let alone thrown it in the trash. Whatever problem Beel is facing, you wager it has to be serious.

Beel turns away and continues to walk down the corridor. You want to grab his hand and get him to stop, but knowing Beel’s strength, you know that there’s no way that you could physically do that. Instead, you run in front of him and put your hands out, causing him to halt and tilt his head in confusion.

Furrowing your brow, you poke Beel in the chest. “Tell me what’s bothering you, Beel. It’s not good to keep things bottled up.”

Beelzebub still won’t meet your eyes. “I know.” He sighs, as he glances up and notices that you still haven’t left his path. “I’ll tell you later.”

You don’t want to push the soft-spoken demon and step to the side. “I hope you do.”

As before, you and Beel continue to the House of Lamentation in silence. Once you two arrive, Beel heads directly to him and Belphegor's room without his usual stop to the kitchen. You shake your head and make your way over to your own room.

Dumping your backpack onto the floor, you head over to your downy bed, breathing in the floral scent of jasmine and roses. Only Asmodeus uses that scent of detergent, so he must be on laundry duty this week. You mentally thank him for using such a pleasant scent, unlike the strange musk of the sandalwood and papyrus fabric softener that Satan had used two weeks earlier.

Your laundry-related musings are interrupted by rapid, deafening knocking on your door. You hope it is Beel, finally ready to talk about whatever is bothering him, but you know better than that. Beel, for all his muscled glory, has a very quiet, almost timid knock. The only demon in the House of Lamentation that has a knock so boisterous, so cacophonous, so incessant is …

“How come you’re not dressed yet?” Mammon demands, walking straight into your room as soon as you open the door. “Didn’t you get my messages?”

“I haven’t checked my D.D.D in a bit,” you admit, pulling the device out of the pocket of your uniform. You open the Chat app, noticing that you indeed have some message notifications from Mammon.

Mammon Mammon: HUH? How’re you confused by *that*?

Mammon: Getting paid means I’m going shopping! And you’re comin’ with me!

Mammon: Be dressed by the time I get home from *barf* tutoring!

Mammon: Curse Lucifer and Satan for making me go to that crap, by the way.

Mammon: I mean, who *cares* if I have a D- in Statistics?

“I don’t think I can go shopping today, Mammon,” you sigh. Grabbing your backpack from off the ground, you begin to rifle through it until you find your Physics IV textbook. “I have a lot of homework due soon.”

“Homework, shmomework,” Mammon chides, yanking the book from your hands. “There ain’ t nothing wrong with not doing it once in a while.”

You give him a look. No wonder he has a D- in Statistics.

Mammon grabs your hand, leads you off the bed, and pushes you over to the closet. “Tell ya what, if you come with me, I’ll be super generous and buy you anything you want from the store—only something super cheap, though, but still!”

You want to protest, but figure Mammon won’t let this go. Instead, you get dressed into something more casual than your uniform and step out of your closet.

The second-born, who was absentmindedly flipping through your Physics textbook as you changed, immediately sits erect once as you appear. “I swear that I wasn’t going through your things,” he claims. “Much.” He gives your outfit a once-over and two thumbs-up. “I always forget how nice you clean up for a human, MC! You’re officially fashionable enough to stand by my side!”

You blush ever so slightly, but before Mammon can notice, you busy yourself by emptying your backpack of any school-related content. That way, you have an empty bag to carry as you go shopping. “And if I don’t want to stand by your side, Mammon?” you tease.

The demon’s face flushes with a blush even deeper than yours. “O—of course, you want to be by my side! I’m the Great Mammon, don’t you forget that!”

You smile as you take out your last notebook from your bag. “Okay, I’m ready to go shopping with you,” you say, putting your backpack on. “Let’s go.”

“Say it with a little more enthusiasm, will ya?” Mammon complains as he opens the door to let you through.

You shake your head, smile, and decide to tease him some more. “Fine. Let's go!”

“That’s not the part I said to be more enthusiastic about!”

Chapter 2

“Are you serious, Mammon?” Leviathan growls. “I already checked ahead—the Ruri-chan figurine, if you buy it in the Majolish collectibles department, is only four hundred and fifty thousand Grimm. I’m not paying you a cent more.”

Mammon waves his hand nonchalantly. “And if I ain’t mistaken, Levi, ya want this figure today, right?”

Levi grinds his teeth. “Right.”

“Well, then! Ya want me to go buy it for you today, you pay me my two hundred and twenty-five thousand Grimm labor fee!”

“I’m not paying you that much Grimm extra.”

“Then go buy it yourself!”

“I can’t. I have to finish this gaming campaign today. I already put it off long enough, and it’s not my fault that the Ruri-chan neko maid figure releases today, too! It's gonna sell out, fast!”

“Then pay me my damn labor fee!”

“You just made that up, and I already told you—I’m not paying you that much, you ass!”

And on they go.

You’ve been listening to the two brothers argue for the past fifteen minutes. You had thought by now maybe Mammon and you would have gotten a start on his shopping, but no, he had insisted on barging into Levi’s room to see if he could make a little extra Grimm off of his younger brother before the two of you left.

“You’re scum, Mammon, you know that?” Levi growls. He turns to you, pouting. “What about you, MC? Will you buy my precious Ruri-chan figurine for me?”

You sigh. “Give me the money, Levi. If I see the figure, I’ll buy it.”

The third-born demon grins. “Thanks! I knew I could count on you.”

He rummages through the pocket of his coat and begins to count out the right amount of Grimm. Once he has enough bills, he hands the stack to you, but before you can grab it, the money is intercepted by Mammon.

“I’ll hold onto that for you, MC,” Mammon assures, a coy smile lighting his face. “You don’t have any pockets in that sweatshirt.”

You smile sardonically and pull Levi’s money back. You know better than to trust Mammon, the Avatar of Greed with money of all things. Secrets? Maybe. Schemes? Definitely. Being a tsundere idiot? There was no one more capable. But money? You’d be rivaling him in idiocy if you did that.

“It’s fine; I got it,” you promise, sliding the money into the deepest pocket in your backpack.

Levi scowls at Mammon as you two leave. “Please die.”

“Here we are, MC!” Mammon grins, waving his hand for you to take in all the scenery. “The most expensive shopping district in all of the Devildom!”

You look around at your surroundings; it was a horribly gaudy site. There are huge building complexes, studded with stores selling items from the most famous brands in the world. What really brings out the garishness of the location is that every store seems to be covered in gold.

There’s a gilded Ralph Goren shop, a Chanhell showroom that sparkles with a yellow brighter than the sun, and even a Burbury emporium that glitters with a fine flaxen coating.

“Why … why does everything look like this?” you can’t help but ask.

Mammon, who had been staring lovingly at the lurid buildings, looks over at you, pulled out of his reverie. “What? Oh, the gold? It’s just to show how expensive everything is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, MC,” Mammon explains, suddenly grabbing your hand as he leads you further into the shining abyss. “All this stuff—” He gestures toward all the name-brand stores. “You can find in any of the regular couture shopping districts in the Devildom. However, the stuff sold here specifically—the very same stuff in all the other stores—is more expensive. The buildings are all covered in gold to represent that. It’s great, huh?”

You dig your heels in the ground. “Wait … you mean … you’re only shopping here … because it’s expensive?”

“Duh! Things that cost more make ya look cool.” He yanks your hand harder to get you moving again. “Not that I need help looking cool or anythin.’”

“Of course.”

Wow, you realize. He really lives up to his title of the Avatar of Greed.

“Oh! Look over there! Silver-plated spurs! Let’s go see if they have ‘em in bronze or somethin’—silver kinda clashes with my look, y’know? And holy crap, they’re selling diamond insoles for your slippers in that store! Can’t imagine they’d be comfortable, but still, why wouldn’t you want ‘em?”

Before you know it, you and Mammon are standing in line for the register at Versucky, with the second-born demon holding at least seven or eight different, high-end items, all of which you wonder if he has any use for.

“I know what you’re thinking, MC,” Mammon says, looking at your confused expression. “How much money does the Great Mammon make from modeling if he can afford to buy this much stuff?”

You want to point out that that was not in fact, what you were wondering, but he barrels on ahead.

“Well, a lot, of course, ‘cause y’know, I got all this.” He gestures toward his body sensuously. “But still, even if it’s not enough, I got my beloved Goldie!” Mammon shuffles all his desired items to one hand, and with the other, whips out a shiny black credit card from his pocket.

Your eyes widen. “Didn’t Lucifer confiscate that from you two days ago?”

“Yeah,” Mammon admits. “But I found it. He left it in one of the oysters in Levi’s aquarium—don’t ask how I figured it out.”

You shake your head and can’t help but smile at his rebelliousness. You wonder how Lucifer is going to punish Mammon for his craftiness this time.

As you and he reach the front of the line, Mammon suddenly drops everything he’s holding. “Oh, crap.”

You reach to pick up all the items that had tumbled to the ground. “What?”

“Well … “ Mammon scratches the back of his neck, a slight blush coming over his tan skin. “I just realized that I promised I’d buy ya somethin’ if you came with me, and heh, here you are.”

“It’s okay, Mammon; you don't need to get me anything,” you reassure him. You hadn’t really expected him to keep his end of the bargain, and honestly, you didn’t really care. You hadn’t actually needed anything from the store, and in fact, the only reason you had tagged along was, well, for the company … and the fact that Mammon wouldn’t have shut up if you hadn’t.

“No, it’s not,” he says. He grabs your wrist and leads you out of Versucky. “I said I’d buy ya somethin’ and that’s what I’m gonna do. Here, we’ll buy whatever you want first, so then I’ll know how much Grimm I have left to spend.”

“But you don’t have to worry about how much money you can spend,” you remind him. “You have Goldie.”

Mammon’s blush deepens. “W—well, yeah, I know!” He looks down, grinding his heel into the ground. “But I just remembered that Lucifer put a control lock on her that notifies him every time she’s being used, and then he’ll know I took her back.” His head whips up immediately. “And just so y’know, it ain’t like I’m afraid of him, or anythin;’ I just figured not using her would be the smarter thing to do, that’s all!”

You smile at his display. “If you say so.”

“Wh—what! Ya don’t believe me?”

“No, no, of course, I do.”

“You—you better!” He coughs and tries to regain his composure. “Now, where do you wanna go? Unless ya wanted to shop at Versucky, ‘cause I guess we could go back in there.”

“I’m not really sure,” you admit. Even in the human world, you weren’t very familiar with couture brands, and you’re even more lost in the Devildom. Your eyes scan the apparently endless miles of gilded shops until you spot a strange blip of steel gray in the sea of gold. “What’s that?”

Mammon squints in the direction you point. “Never seen that store before in my life. Kinda gross, though. The whole ashy color scheme really clashes with the rest of the buildings here.”

To be honest, you find the dull color of the edifice somewhat soothing compared to the sheer gaudiness of its surroundings. You begin to make your way over to it, Mammon in tow.

“Thrifty’s Cheap Finds,” Mammon reads as you near the building. He dry heaves. “Cheap finds? What is this? Some kind of lame way to attract broke-ass degenerates like …” He trails off when he sees your raised eyebrow and blushes. “I wasn’t gonna end that sentence with ‘you,’ I swear! Calm down!”

You shake your head and don’t respond as you enter the store. As you begin to wander around the shop, not even Mammon can keep his jaw from falling open in wonder. Inside Thrifty’s Cheap Finds is everything from hairspray to mattresses to books to cookie sheets—all of them branded with human company labels.

“No wonder everything here is so cheap,” Mammon realizes. “No one in the Devildom wants human stuff. Well, unless you’re Satan and Lucifer and like all that antique crap.”

You resist the desire to glare at him and instead pore through everything in the shop, your eyes never failing to examine each item. It’s been months since you’ve been home and seen any of these types of knickknacks.

A wave of homesickness washes over you as you finger a timeless gingham tablecloth, as Mammon ambles off to the electronics section, which is filled with ancient-looking cellphones and computers.

You swallow the feeling away before it can cause a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes. You wander farther down, realizing that all the mismatched pots and pans mean that this is the cooking aisle.

You pause in the section of this aisle that displays cookbooks and remember the miserable look on Beelzebub’s face earlier today. Perhaps, you wonder, there is something in here that would cheer him up.

The cookbooks are all in disarray, and you shuffle through the many stacks of them several times before you find a book that you think Beel would like. You flip through the cookbook and nod in approval; the pictures are large and detailed and the human recipes are quick, simple and hearty—perfect for the always hungry Avatar of Gluttony.

You flip the book over and read the price tag. “Nine thousand Grimm.”

You worry that that’s too much, especially since you remember Satan once mentioning that books from the human world usually weren’t economical. You haven’t really gotten the idea of how much a single Grimm is worth yet, and you keep hearing Mammon’s voice in your head, insisting that whatever you buy today be cheap.

“Hey, what’cha got there, MC?” Mammon asks, materializing as if on cue. “This what you want?” He grabs the book from your hands and gives it a mildly disgusted look. “A cookbook?”

“It’s for Beel,” you say, defensively.

Mammon raises an eyebrow. “The only demon ya should be buying stuff for is me, but I’ll let it slide this time.” He too flips the book over. You grimace nervously as his eyes widen when he sees the price.

“I’ll put it back if it’s too expens—” you begin, pulling it away.

Mammon blushes. “Ar—are you kidding, MC? When I said to buy something cheap earlier, I didn’t actually mean it! Hell, I’m willing to splurge on ya if you really want somethin!’ You didn’t actually have to go find something this dirt-cheap!”

Huh, so nine thousand Grimm is considered inexpensive, you note. You smile at Mammon’s uncharacteristic generosity. “It’s okay, I really do want this.”

He runs a hand through his hair and tries to regain his composure, but to no avail. “Y—you sure? I mean—if ya wanna get somethin’ from Ralph Goren or somethin,’ I’m cool with that!”

You hold the cookbook to your chest and nod. “I’m sure.” You grab his hand and lead him to the register.

As Mammon pays the nine thousand Grimm to the lanky demon clerk, he shakes his head and looks at you. “You really are something else, y’know that, MC?”

Chapter 3

As soon as you and Mammon return home, you walk over to Leviathan’s room and knock on his door. Hung on your wrist is a bag from a store called, Look At Me, I’m a Stupid Otaku (or at least, that’s what Mammon had told you the building sign had said. You don’t know how to read Japanese.), which held a Ruri-chan figurine. “Levi? It’s me, MC.”

“Come in,” the third-born demon calls.

You open the door, only to see Levi slouched over on his computer. You take the figurine out of the bag. “Where do you want this?”

“Oh, is that my darling Ruri-chan?” he asks, his eyes never leaving the screen. “You can bring it here. Sorry, I’d come over and get it myself, but there are only two minutes left on this boss stage, and he still has half of his HP left.”

You bring the figure to his desk and leave it next to what looks like a box of granola bars. “Super high-energy chocolate-covered cricket snacks,” you read. “Now with extra protein.” You blanch because despite living in the Devildom for a while, you still have yet to become accustomed to the food.

“Yeah, sometimes when I’m really in the gaming zone, I don’t leave my room for days, not even to get meals and stuff lololol, so I keep those here if I get hungry.”

“Can I have one?” You are planning to check in on Beel after making this stop to Levi’s room, and realize that it would be better to show up with food.

His eyes glued to his computer, Levi nods. “Go for it.”

As you reach into the box to take one, Levi suddenly turns toward you, even though you can see the timer counting down on his game. “Better take the whole box. Beel’s not gonna be satisfied with just one.” He sighs. “Everyone’s been kinda worried about him, you know? He’s been down all day, but he’s not saying anything to anyone, not even Belphie.” He perks up. “But! If there is someone who can make him feel better, it’s you, MC!”

You smile at his worry for his brother. “Thanks, Leviathan.” You stuff the box into your backpack.

He nods, before turning back to his game, frowning when he realizes that the onscreen timer read 00:00 and he hadn’t been able to finish off the boss. “He’s in the gym.”

“Of course,” you say, as you leave his room.

Just as Levi had said, you find Beel in the House of Lamentation’s fully-equipped gym.

The sixth-born demon is sitting cross-legged in front of an elliptical, a towel slung across his shoulders. Unsurprisingly, his twin—Belphegor—is with him, napping with his head resting on Beel’s lap.

Beel frowns nervously when he sees you. “Oh, hi, MC.” He sighs. “ I guess you’re not here to tell Belphie how cute he looks sleeping like this. ”

You cock your head curiously. “I can if you want me to.”

Beel shakes his head. “I was just checking to see if he's awake.”

“Ah,” you realize, sitting down next to him. “Is there something that you don’t want Belphie to hear?”

Beel nods but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he fiddles with the hem of his rather tight-fitting tank top. You try not to stare at the bulging silhouette of his abs that show through. “It’s funny,” he begins. “When either of us is upset, I get less hungry, but Belphie becomes more sleepy.”

You remember learning of the twins’ connection a few days earlier. The two had a bond so strong that they sometimes shared each other’s feelings, and if one had an extreme emotion, the other would often experience it, too. You put a hand on his arm. “What are you so upset about, Beel?”

He groans. “It’s nothing, really.”

You decide to try a different tactic. “You’re worrying your brothers,” you admit gently.

“I know.” Beel takes a deep breath. Twisting around, he pulls out his navy backpack from behind the elliptical. After rummaging through it for a moment, he pulls out a telltale Physics IV: Mind Over Matter textbook. He flips to the end of the book and releases a packet of paper, which he hands to you.

You examine it for a moment, surprised to see in obnoxious red ink, the phrase F - sprawled across the front. Maybe stick to lifting weights, meathead is written underneath it. Although the words cause your blood to boil, you swallow your anger and calmly move your hand up to Beel’s shoulder. “You’re upset because you did bad on a test?”

Beel slouches, his back sliding down one of the supports of the elliptical. He continues to fiddle with his shirt and doesn’t meet your eyes. “It’s not just that,” he confesses. “If I fail another one, my professor is going to make me repeat the subject.” He sighs. “Belphie’s always helped me study in Physics; we almost always have the same class schedule—except I take Weights and he takes regular P.E—and he always made sure I knew the material.”

“But Belphie doesn’t go to R.A.D this year,” you realize. “He’s supposed to be enrolled in a human school for the exchange program.”

“Yeah,” Beel sighs. “I can’t ask him to learn the information at home with me—I know he would if I asked—he’s already been through so much this year.” He gulps. “Lucifer is going to be so mad when he finds out I’m failing.”

“Why can’t you just get a tutor, like Mammon does?”

“You see how everyone makes fun of him because of that.”

You want to point out that Mammon usually brought the teasing upon himself and justified it with his unrelenting moronness, but an idea strikes you instead. “Hey, I 'm in Physics IV, too. Why don’t we study together?”

Beel’s face lights up. “Really, MC? You’d do that?”

You laugh as you hear his stomach growl in excitement. “Of course!” You remember the cricket snacks you took from Levi’s room and begin to take the box out of your backpack. You see the cookbook you bought for him and take that out, too. “You’re hungry, now?”

He grins sheepishly. “Yes, I’m famished!”

“Look here, I brought you snacks,” you say, handing the box to him. “Thank Levi next time you see him.”

Beel immediately rips open a package and begins to eat. “Hi wroh.” He swallows, and repeats, “I will. Thanks to you, too.” He looks at the cookbook in your hand curiously. “What’s that?”

You place the book in his lap, balancing it precariously on Belphegor’s head. “It’s a cookbook from the human world. I bet it has all kinds of recipes for foods you haven’t tried before.”

Beel grabs another cricket snack as his eyes widen. “I haven’t eaten many human foods before. Let’s look at it together.”

You nod, opening the book and flipping the page as Beel munches.

“Haha,” he laughs. “Angel Food Cake. Maybe we should make some for Simeon and Luke.”

You smile and turn to the following page. The next recipe is for Devil’s Food Cake. “Or maybe you can make this one for dessert someday. Or this one—look—Deviled Eggs.”

“Those look good.” Opening another snack, Beel suggests, “Hey, MC, I’m on dinner duty tomorrow. Want to help me cook some of these foods? Or maybe, I can cook and you can help me study?”

“That sounds like a good idea, Beel,” you muse. “What do you think we should make, then?”

“Well, Satan won’t eat animals, Leviathan refuses to eat seafood, and Belphie—” He pats his brother on the head. “—doesn’t like to eat beef or veal. If we use any of those, we probably have to substitute the meat with other things.”

You and Beel pore through the cookbook for several hours, finally deciding on Deviled Eggs as appetizers, Garlic Parmesan Risotto and Savory Mashed Potatoes for the main course, and Black Forest Cake for dessert.

“This will be fun,” Beel promised, yawning. “I’ll pick up the ingredients after school tomorrow.”

You curse the contagiousness of yawns as you yawn, too, feeling your eyes grow heavy. You can feel Beel’s head rest on your shoulder as he begins to snore lightly. Without thinking, you lean your head to the right, feeling Beel’s under you. You promise yourself that you won’t fall asleep as you close your eyes and mutter, “Sounds … like a … plan.”

Chapter 4

“I’m gonna kill him,” Mammon whispers, his voice low and colder than ice as you, him, and Beel huddle over your D.D.D. “I’m really gonna kill him.”

Beel frowns at his elder brother. “Why are you so upset? You’re not even in the picture.”

“Yeah, if anyone should be mad, it’s me, Beel, or Belphie,” you comment, zooming in on the photo, which had been taken yesterday.

It was from when you and Beel had fallen asleep together as you two pored over the cookbook you had bought for him. Strangely enough, Asmodeus—who had both taken and posted the photo—was in the picture, as well; he was posing as if he had been napping sweetly on your shoulder the whole time. To everyone’s surprise, the only one “awake” in the photo appeared to be Belphie, who had wriggled his way from lying in Beel’s lap to having his legs rest on his brother while his torso and head were sprawled all over your lap. He was too deeply engrossed in reading Beel’s new cookbook to notice his brother taking the picture. Asmodeus captioned the photo, Just getting a bit of beauty sleep with my babes 😘.

“Yes, you should!” Mammon says. “ Why aren’t you, by the way? This photo is a total invasion of your privacy!” He whirls toward Beel, his eyebrows downturned in anger. “And what’s the big idea, Beel? Sleepin’ on MC’s shoulder like that?” He puts a hand on your head patronizingly. “You shouldn’t touch anyone like that without their permission!”

Beel smiles. “Well, I think MC looks cute in this photo! And it’s not my fault that we fell asleep like that.”

Mammon rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m still gonna kill Asmo for postin’ it.” He taps on your Devilgram feed to unlike the photo. “Anyway, why’d ya call me here?” he asks, gesturing toward the Hall of Lamentation’s kitchen.

“No one called you here,” you remind him, taking a seat at the kitchen table. You reach down, grab your backpack and pull out the cookbook you had bought for Beel, as well as your copy of Physics IV: Mind Over Matter.

“Yeah,” Beel agrees, his mouth downturned in a frown. “You just heard that MC was going to be in the kitchen helping me cook and decided to come along.”

Blushing, Mammon takes a seat next to you. “Maybe I just wanted to help ya cook, Beel.”

“No way.” Beel sticks out his arms, barring him from entering the kitchen. “You’re not helping me cook. If you cook, I won’t eat it.”

“Okay, okay, fine, jeez.”

As you flip through the cookbook to find the recipes that you and Beel had decided to make yesterday, Mammon grabs your Physics textbook, whipping through it boredly. “Why’d ya bring your textbook to the kitchen? You having trouble in Physics and want to study here or somethin’? ‘Cause if you are, never fear—The Mammon is here!”

You look at Beel—who glances at you nervously—from the corner of your eyes. You yank the textbook away from Mammon. “You’re not even taking Physics.”

“Yeah, I’m taking Chemistry, and have a C in it, so I’m still passing—so what?”

“How are you supposed to teach me Physics when you’re not even in it?”

“MC! Don’t doubt the Great Mammon’s abilities!”

“Oh yeah? Does the Great Mammon know the formula for … angular acceleration?”

“The change in angular speed divided by the change in time,” Beel pipes up, as he hovers over the stove, checking for the water to boil for his Deviled Eggs.

Mammon laughs and waves his hand at his brother. “Don’t be ridiculous, Beel.” He turns to you. “C’mon, MC, don’t mess around with me. I know ‘angular acceleration’ isn’t even a real word.”

You turn to the glossary in the back of your book and point to the term with the formula next to it, which Beel had recited. “Seems like the Great Mammon’s abilities have failed him.” You watch Mammon blush furiously and smile. “And besides, Beel and I are having a Physics study session, since we’re both in the class.”

“And we’re not getting much studying done with you here,” Beel quips. He retrieves four dozen eggs from the refrigerator and begins to carefully drop them into the boiling water on the stove with a ladle.

You do a double-take and glance at the cookbook. “Beel, the serving information here says that to serve eight people you only need sixteen eggs, at the most.”

Mammon and Beel shake their heads.

“If my brothers are going to get a chance to eat anything, we’re going to have to make this many,” Beel decides. He hoists up a giant pot of potatoes that had been already boiling on the stove and plops it in front of Mammon, handing him a potato masher. “Mash these.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to cook anything,” Mammon whines.

“Yes, because whatever you make tastes gross. Mashing the potatoes isn’t cooking anything, so you can do just that.”

Mammon grumbles something that sounds curse word-y, but stands up and begins to work the masher into the potatoes. “Just for that, I’m making ‘em creamy. No lumps.” He whispers to you, “Beel loves lumpy potatoes.”

“Fine, Belphie will like it smooth, anyway,” Beel assures. He walks over to the refrigerator and yanks out an entire wheel of parmesan cheese. He sets it in front of you and hands you a cheese grater. “Can you shred this cheese, MC? I’m about to start getting the arborio rice for the risotto ready and the whole process is going to take a while.”

Your eyes widen. He wants me to grate the entire wheel of parmesan. “Sure, but what about our … you know, study session?” You had promised to help Beel with Physics, and you were by no means going to forget about it.

“Ask me questions as we go? Sorry, I didn’t realize how much there was to do,” he says sheepishly.

You nod, laying your Physics textbook flat open to Chapter Seven, which was your assigned reading for your next class.

You cut off a block of cheese and begin to run it against the serrated surface of the cheese grater for several hours, asking Beel problem after problem from the book. He stumbles on quite a few of them, but you correct him only if you know how to—after all, you yourself aren't a master in Physics. The ones you don’t are questions that you skip, mentally circling them to come back to later.

Every so often, Beel grabs a scoop of the mound of grated parmesan that you have shredded and adds it to his pot of risotto. Surprisingly, Mammon also throws several handfuls of cheese into his potatoes, as he mashes them until they are so smooth that you were sure that not even an ant would be able to find the tiniest lump.

Beel doesn’t notice that Mammon adds the rest of the ingredients in the recipe to the potatoes—copious amounts of cream, whole stalks of herbs, salt, and more butter than you have ever seen in your life, and stirs them together.

“Beel says he won’t eat anythin’ I make ‘cause he’ll hate it,” Mammon explains to you when you stare at him for disobeying his brother’s explicit orders of doing nothing but mashing the potatoes. He smirks. “But wait ‘till he gets a load of these. They’re gonna be great.”

You roll your eyes at the mischievous demon, wondering how his little fling with deviancy is going to bite him this time.

“Okay, time to assemble the cake,” Beel announces, plopping all forty-eight freshly-piped Deviled Eggs onto the table, along with a steaming casserole filled with Garlic Parmesan Risotto. “MC, can you sprinkle the rest of the cheese on top?”

As you begin to do just that, he brings over three round German chocolate cakes, a bowl of whipped cream, and a dish filled with cherries macerated in sugar. One of the three cakes is already topped with a layer of cream and cherries.

“I hate cherries,” Mammon grumbles.

As if on cue, Asmodeus walks by. “That’s why you’ve never popped one.”

You stifle your laughter as Mammon’s face turns a very unbecoming shade of red. “Asmo!” He sprints after his brother, leaving you and Beel alone in the kitchen. “I was already gonna kill you once, but now I’m gonna kill you twice! C’mere, you bastard!”

You turn towards Beel, who is putting the third layer of cake onto the growing tower and covering it with whipped cream.

Putting his spatula down, Beel looks at you. “MC, thanks so much for helping me today—with the food, with the studying, with everything.” He looks down. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

You smile at him. “It’s no problem, Beel!”

“No, really,” Beel insists, staring into your eyes with an intensity that sends shivers all the way down to your toes and causes you to flush pink. “I feel so much more confident now in Physics. I think if I took a quiz today, I’d at least know enough to pass.”

“I’m just glad I could help,” you say honestly.

Beel grins and carefully lifts the Black Forest Cake by its base and puts it on a cake pedestal. “It’s time to put all this food in the dining room,” he says. He then notices Mammon’s mashed potatoes. He frowns as he sees the green herb fragments, signifying that his brother had done something other to the potatoes than simply mash them as he had told him to. He dips a spoon into the pot and tastes them. Beel’s face becomes a blazing inferno. “I’m going to eat him.”

“What?” you ask, noticing the sudden shift in his mood.

“Sugar.”

“Sugar?”

“He put … sugar … in the Savory Mashed Potatoes.”

THE END

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date mammon #obey me shall we date beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me shall we date beelzebub #obey me beel #fluff #humor #brothers #fanfiction #fanfic #adverbslut_writes

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freddiesaysalright · 5 years ago

Text

Peace Like A River Part 11

A Gwilym Lee x Reader Story

Summary: Reader is a stand up comic with a pretty dark past. She has a three new lights in her life: her daughter, Violet; her anonymous correspondent, Dear Friend; and Gwilym Lee.

Word Count: 4.1K

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @simmisblog, @assembledherethevolunteers, @lookuptotheskiesandsee, @readinghorn, @riddikuluslypotter, @doingalrightt, @misslolasworld, @lemurian-starship, @ravenedges-lies, @painkiller80, @imgonnabeyourslave, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @ixchel-9275, @sincerelygmg, @lv7867, @unicorn-princess-1999, @delilahmay39, @chlobo6, @dragon-out-of-water, @radio-hoo-ha If you’d like to be tagged for the epilogue let me know!

A/N: Sorry this took so long, y’all! I had a super busy weekend and didn’t feel like writing in my down time. At last, the thrilling conclusion! However, this story will have an epilogue and it will be SAPPY so get ready! Hope y’all enjoy :)

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X

Part 11 here we go!!!

The day had come at last to go to England. While you were traveling, you were always thankful for Violet. She was so easy going and never complained. She had no trouble on planes and you were blessed to never be that parent apologizing to the rest of the passengers for your fussy baby. Now, Violet was so excited she could hardly stand it.

The airport was even more crowded than usual. Of course, that was because it was a busy time of year. Everyone was trying to get home or somewhere to see their family. Adam was also a blessing because crowds did not bother him in the least, and he was forceful if he had to be in order to get through. It was nice to have him since you tended to get run over by people.

You sat at your gate, Violet snacking on some pretzels. You were reading a novel Gwilym had recommended to you and Adam was answering some emails. Basically, he was telling everyone to leave you alone until you were back from the UK.

“Mommy, how many more sleeps?” Violet asked.

“Well, we have this plane ride to New York,” you said. “We’ll have one sleep there. Then the next day, we fly from New York to London. But it’s a long, long ride, so we’ll sleep on the plane, too.”

“Two more sleeps, then?” she said.

“That’s right,” you told her.

“Then we see Daddy!” she cried.

You kissed her head. “Yes, we do!”

She giggled and stuffed another pretzel into her mouth. You returned to your book. When you were called up to board, Adam helped you with your carry on so you could get Violet situated in your lap. You got her tablet out and her headphones on just as Adam sat down beside you.

“So,” he said. “You had a long story to catch me up on before I meet Gwilym in person. Why doesn’t he know he’s writing to you?”

You took a deep breath. “Let me start from the beginning.”

You told him everything. About Dear Friend, how you’d met Gwilym years ago, the night you reconnected, and everything since then, including the ordeal with Stacy and the confrontation with Henry. Adam listened patiently, only commenting once to call Stacy a “shady bitch” before urging you to continue.

You caught him up on why you hadn’t confessed to Gwilym. That the reason you held back that night in Atlanta was because of your low sense of self-worth. It was what held you back from admitting it all the way up until now.

“Honestly, you probably should have told him after you slept together,” he said. “But hey, sometimes you get dicked down so good it’s hard to remember stuff like that.”

You giggled.

He looked at you with understanding. “But I get it. I’m a gay, black man from rural Alabama. I know what it’s like to hate yourself and feel like you don’t deserve love or happiness. Especially from someone you admire so much. I really, truly don’t blame you.”

You took his hand. “Thank you.”

“I got you,” he said gently. “So what’s your plan for telling him?”

“Well, I arranged a meet up,” you explained. You told him what you intended to do and he smiled.

“That’s romantic as hell,” he said. “I think he’s gonna be stoked to find out that it’s you.”

“I hope he’s not angry with me,” you admitted. “I kept it from him for so long.”

“If he’s as great as you tell me, he’ll understand,” he assured you.

“He is that great,” you said. “And more. God, I love him so much.”

“Really?” Adam teased. “I couldn’t tell!”

You chuckled.

A few hours later, you landed in New York. You had booked a hotel close to JFK since you’d be flying out again the following day. You went straight there. After you bid Adam goodnight and watched him disappear into his room, you entered yours and got ready for bed. You and Violet got cuddled up and you turned on the TV. A Charlie Brown Christmas was on, so you snuggled and watched it together. Violet adored Snoopy, so this was one of her favorites. She fell asleep just five minutes in. You followed behind shortly after.

The next day, you had time to have breakfast and rest before heading back to the airport. Once again, Adam was incredibly helpful. You had never traveled overseas before, so he helped you through the process. It wasn’t much different, but it was enough to make you nervous.

It was a long ride, but it all felt worth it because you were going to see Gwilym. You held Violet in your lap and smiled at the prospect - the three of you were going to be together again, as it should be. You remembered the woman who approached you at breakfast that morning and wondered how you ever could have questioned her. Of course you were a family.

You all slept for a lot of the trip. It was long, after all, and movies could only do so much. It was easier to pass the time with sleep. Then, after what felt like years of waiting, you landed in London, and you knew Gwilym was waiting for you. He was in that building. You could picture the smile on his face and the way his eyes gleamed.

Getting off the plane even felt like it took longer. As you and Adam grabbed your bags and got Violet squared away, your stomach twisted with excitement. Not long now.

Gwilym was waiting for you in baggage claim. Violet gasped loudly when she spotted him and then took off, narrowly dodging a rather surprised elderly gentleman with his massive suitcase. You whispered an apology to him as you passed.

“Daddy!” she yelled, beaming so wide you thought her face might split in half.

“There’s my little girl!” Gwilym returned, scooping her up and spinning her around as she shrieked with laughter.

He showered her with kisses on her cheeks and she giggled. Your heart melted watching them. You felt Adam by your ear.

“I’ll grab the luggage,” he said. “Go say hello.”

“No, I can help,” you tried to insist, but he stopped you.

“Go, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you whispered.

He left and you walked briskly over to your two favorite people in the world. Gwilym grinned at you and you thought you might stop breathing. He was just wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but he looked incredible.

“Hello, love,” he said sweetly.

You sank into him, letting him wrap his free arm around you and pull you into his embrace. It felt like everything coming together again. You could feel him, smell him, touch him. The dull ache of missing him was gone. He leaned down to kiss you deeply. You reciprocated with enthusiasm.

“I missed you,” you said, nuzzling into his chest.

He pressed his lips to the top of your head. “I missed you too.”

Adam walked over, wheeling his and your luggage in front of him. He stopped and put the handles down as he locked eyes with Gwilym.

“Hi, I’m Adam,” he said, extending his hand.

Gwilym shook it. “Gwilym Lee. Wonderful to finally meet you in person.”

“You as well,” Adam returned.

“Are we all ready to go?” Gwilym asked.

“Yes!” you cried.

He passed Violet to you so he and Adam could take the luggage. You went out to his car, loaded everybody and everything up, and headed to Gwilym’s home. The whole ride, you gazed out the window, taking everything in. It was exciting to be in a new place, especially with people who made you feel like you were home.

Gwilym’s house was lovely. He’d prepared two guest rooms - one for Violet and one for Adam. He was incredibly hospitable and looked just so thrilled at having you there. It was infectious, and you were so grateful for his kindness.

That night, he told you he had a special surprise for you, and he took you all to a comedy club where they were having an open mic night. It was also a restaurant, so you decided to have dinner and drinks there. Luckily, Violet was not at all interested in the performers and spent most of the evening coloring so she missed all the inappropriate jokes. At one point, Gwilym excused himself for about ten minutes before returning to the table. Even those ten minutes felt like an hour after not seeing him for weeks.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, but he had a sly grin on his face as he exchanged a look with Adam.

You looked at both of them, cocking a curious eyebrow. “What are you guys up to?”

“You’ll see soon, love,” he said, placing a swift peck on your cheek.

“Alright!” the host said excitedly. “I’ve just been told we have a celebrity here with us tonight. Fresh off her tour.”

Your mouth fell open as you looked at Gwilym. He laughed.

“Y/N Y/L/N, welcome to London!” the host cried.

“You didn’t!” you gasped, trying to ignore the applause.

“Go up there!” Gwilym encouraged.

You rolled your eyes and obeyed, waving to the crowd as you normally would before a show. You didn’t really have any material planned, but you knew how to improvise. One of the managers handed you a microphone and you thanked him before looking at the crowd.

“Thank you,” you said to them. “This is certainly a surprise.” You looked at the hot. “What’s your name?”

“Tony,” he told you.

“Ah, well, thank you as well, Tony,” you said.

“We’re thrilled to have you,” he replied. “So, how are you enjoying the UK so far?”

“I’ve only been here a few hours, so I don’t have much to go on,” you began. “But I gotta say, not a big fan of the food. A couple hours here and I’m really starting to understand why Gordon Ramsey is so pissed off all the time.”

Tony laughed, as did the crowd.

“Seriously, didn’t you guys colonize half the globe for spices?” you went on. “What’d you do with them? Because you sure as shit aren’t using any on your food.”

Another laugh went through them.

“And have you brought your daughter with you?” Tony asked.

“Of course,” you told him. “She’s the only reason people follow me on Instagram.”

They giggled.

“How was it travelling with her?” he wondered.

“Easy,” you said. “She got all her annoying out when I gave birth to her.”

“How do you mean?” he asked.

“Okay, this story is wild, so if you have to pee, go now,” you said. “But I was home by myself, and I heard this pop, and I thought it was my water. I was right, but my contractions were still really far apart, so I didn’t go to the hospital or anything.”

“You were going to take yourself?” Tony pressed, blinking in surprise.

“Well, yeah,” you said. “I was alone. But anyway, I labored for around six hours just fine, when suddenly, the contractions were super close together. I was in a blinding amount of pain and I knew I would never make it. So, in between contractions, I got a bunch of stuff I’d need and set up in my closet - I didn’t want to disturb my neighbors - then I called 911.”

“Oh my God!” he cried. “Did you deliver your daughter in your closet?!”

“Sure did!” you said proudly. “I could feel her crowning and the dispatcher was yelling at me like, ‘Hold her in! Don’t push!’ And I was yelling right back going, ‘I’m just fucking laying here, but she’s coming out oh my God!’ So, yeah, I gave a one hundred percent natural birth in my closet, all by myself.”

“When did the paramedics arrive?” he wondered.

“Literally a minute after she was here,” you said. “Thank God. She wasn’t crying, so I thought she wasn’t breathing and I was a wreck, but they took care of everything. Then she was crying and I was crying and the medics were crying. I even heard the dispatcher sniffle.”

He chuckled. “It is pretty amazing. And everything was fine afterwards?”

“I mean, we still had to go and see a doctor to be sure, but yeah, she was okay, I was okay, and that’s what matters,” you said.

“Well, that’ll scare you off from having any more children, won’t it?” he joked.

You laughed. “The opposite actually! I mean, what are the odds of that happening twice?”

They all laughed some more.

“So, the latest gossip is that you’re in a relationship with actor Gwilym Lee,” he said. “Tell us about that.”

“Funnily enough, Gwilym and I knew each other a couple years ago when we filmed a pilot that never aired,” you said. “He came to a show while I was on tour and brought the rest of the cast of Bohemian Rhapsody as well as Brian May and Roger Taylor, so I figured I owed him a date.”

Tony chuckled.

“Yeah,” you said. “I mean, I was really aiming for Ben Hardy, but Gwil’s alright too, I guess,” you teased.

Gwilym smiled as he watched you up on stage. This was different from the jokes you told on tour. There was an earnestness to them even though you were teasing. You weren’t joking to defend yourself anymore. You were joking to express yourself and he was so proud of you.

His mind wandered to Dear Friend. The crazy thing was that whenever he thought about her, he pictured your face. Could it be you? You had made the reference to the letters that day on the phone, but could it actually mean…

He shook his head. No. You would have told him that night in Atlanta. Wouldn’t you? He couldn’t imagine why not. And even if not that night, surely you would have told him by now. Then again, it was awfully strange that both times he arranged to meet Dear Friend, the two of you just happened to be in the same city. He wondered if he was fooling himself. Was it just wishful thinking to hope that you could be Dear Friend?

“Daddy,” Violet whispered, tugging on Gwilym’s sleeve to pull him from his thoughts. “I’m tired.”

He patted his legs and she clamored onto his lap, facing him so she could rest her head on his chest. He stroked her hair and turned his eyes on you again. His heart felt so full.

“Just rest your eyes, darling girl,” he said softly. “You’ve had a long day.”

She nodded and yawned, burrowing even further into him.

“You’re so good with her,” Adam remarked. “You think you and Y/N will have some more of your own?”

“Well, Violet is ours,” he said. “She chose me to be her father, in the face of her biological father. It is the highest honor of my life.”

Adam melted.

“But yes, someday, I’d like to have more children with Y/N,” Gwilym continued with a smile.

When the host finally let you return to your seat, the crowd applauded you for another few minutes. It was very sweet, and you were thankful for the moment, even if it had made you nervous at first. You beamed when you saw Violet on Gwil’s lap. You sat down beside him.

“She out?” you asked.

“Completely,” he returned.

“Well, let’s pay the tab and head home,” you said.

You did just that, and when you got to the house, Gwilym put Violet to bed. Adam headed to his own room, telling you both a sleepy goodnight. You were in Gwilym’s room, stripping down to change into pajamas, but you found that suddenly, you weren’t so tired. With a smirk, you removed your bra and panties and stood there waiting for him.

When Gwilym came into the room, he saw you and his eyes went wide. Then you pounced on him, claiming his lips in a desperate, fiery kiss. He held you tight against him as he kicked the door shut. You made your way to the bed together. He made love to you, and once again, you experienced the joy of a caring partner. The way Gwilym made you feel was unlike anything else, and you would never tire of it.

As you lay together in the afterglow, catching your breath, Gwilym brought up something that surprised you.

“Y/N,” he said. “D’you...do you want more children? Henry said you didn’t want them at all before Violet, and I was speaking with Adam about it tonight and -”

You rolled to rest on his chest and cut him off with a swift kiss.

“I told Henry I didn’t want children,” you said, toying with Gwilym’s soft locks around his face. “But the truth is, I didn’t want his children.” You held his gaze for a long moment. “I’d have a hundred children of yours, my love.”

He started to smile, but it faltered. The way you had phrased that last sentence made his mind start swirling with questions. It was a thing that Dear Friend might say. It sounded like something straight out of a letter.

“What is it?” you questioned, brow furrowing as you looked at him.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “So, you’d have my children? Even if you have to deliver them in closets?”

“I’ve done it once, I can do it again,” you giggled and smiled at him. “I love you, Gwilym.”

Nothing stopped his grin now. “I love you too, darling. So very much.”

With that, you both drifted off to sleep.

Over the next few days, you were incredibly busy. You wanted to see so much of London. Some stuff was the popular parts, but having Gwilym meant you got to see the non-touristy parts of the city too. Violet’s favorite thing was the London Eye. You thought she’d be terrified but she was impressively brave. Adam, on the other hand, was unable to look at the view without nearly vomiting. He did manage to take a picture of the three of you without any trouble.

Before you knew it, Christmas Eve was upon you. Violet was incredibly excited about all the gifts she’d be getting the following day, although at one point she looked at you, terrified.

“Mommy, does Santa know we’re in London?” she fretted. “Will he be able to find me?”

“Of course, baby,” you assured her.

“Mum and I spoke to him ourselves,” Gwilym said. “We told him that our little Violet would not be at home this year, but she’s been a very good girl and shouldn’t miss out on her presents.”

He gently booped her on the nose with his forefinger. She giggled.

“Okay, good,” she said, relieved.

You beamed and kissed Gwilym on the cheek.

That night, Gwilym read “The Night Before Christmas” to Violet when he put her to bed. She fell soundly asleep in no time. Nerves turned your stomach as the time to reveal the truth approached. It was already seven o’clock. At a quarter to eight, Gwilym prepared to leave. You walked him to the door, helped him into his coat, and then pecked him on the lips.

“See you later,” you said.

“I love you,” he returned.

“I love you too.”

With an uneasy smile, he left. You looked at Adam who started the timer on his phone.

“Five minutes,” he said.

You nodded and started pulling your own coat on. Adam helped with your hat and then you took a deep breath.

“I’m gonna throw up,” you said.

“Chill,” he returned. “It’s just Gwilym.”

“Gwilym is everything,” you said. “If I lose him over this, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“You won’t,” he assured you. “You’ve got him forever, I think.”

“I hope so,” you said quietly.

A beat passed and then Adam’s phone buzzed.

“Time to go,” he said. “Don’t worry about Violet. Everything is about you and Gwilym right now.”

You nodded stiffly and opened the door. The cold air felt refreshing on your warm face. Adam had to nudge you out the door. He closed it behind you and you heard the lock turn with a soft click. There was no going back now. Letter in tow, you made your way to the park.

Each step felt heavy as your heart ached with turmoil. Gwilym would have every right to be angry with you. What if he didn’t find this gesture romantic? What if he turned you away and never spoke to you again? How could you ever recover? That sick, unworthy feeling began to slither up your spine, almost making you turn around an banish yourself from Gwilym’s life.

You stopped and took a breath. No. You were giving Gwilym everything, even if it was scary and risky. No matter what.

The park was lit only by the soft moonlight and yellow street lamps. You saw Gwilym’s tall silhouette and smiled. Suddenly, all fear was gone. Gwilym meant serenity and calm. You were absolutely safe here. You stopped several feet away from him, quietly pulling out your favorite letter and began to read.

“Dear Friend,” you began.

Gwilym stiffened. Had he heard that right? He was almost afraid to turn around.

You skipped to the best part. “I read a quote from Tolstoy the other day that made me think of you and our relationship. It went, ‘I already love in you your beauty, but I am only beginning to love in you that which is eternal and ever precious - your heart, your soul…” you continued on and tried not to stumble over the words. You wanted to look up, but he hadn’t turned around yet.

“Isn’t that a lovely sentiment?” you read, and finally, he began to face you. He was slow and unsure, as if still deciding whether or not he should. “Although I don’t know what you look like, I feel I do know your soul. We have worked hard to establish such a love. I do feel that I love you. Have I ever said it to you before? Well, I’ll say it again.”

Finally, he was looking at you. You glanced up and locked eyes. Joy danced in his and you beamed at him, reciting the next part from memory.

“I love you. I love you. I love you. Who cares what it means to others as long as we know what we mean to each other? Looking forward to your response as always. Yours, Dear Friend.”

“It’s you,” he said quietly, a smile spreading slowly across his face. “It really is you!”

He took two quick strides toward you, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. You laughed and held onto his shoulders. He laughed with delight as well as he twirled you. For a brief moment, you felt like a princess. When he set you down, he kissed you hard. Your arms floated to their usual place around his neck. He kissed you all over, from your lips to your cheeks and jaw, whispering his affection into your skin.

You were overwhelmed by it all. It was perfectly clear to you know - no matter what you did or how you felt, he would love you. You held tight to him as a tear slipped down your cheek.

“Oh, Gwilym, I -” You returned a kiss to his cheek. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry I took so long to tell you. It’s just...that night in Atlanta, when I saw it was you, I didn’t think I…” you trailed off, swallowing a sob.

“I know, my love,” he said, wiping the tears away with his thumb. “I know.”

The elation of this moment was too much. He wasn’t angry. He still loved you. How did you ever get so lucky to have this? And unconditionally?

“You are so good to me,” you choked out. “I promise I’ll do my best every day to make you feel a fraction of the happiness you give to me.”

He chuckled and pulled you into his chest, pressing his lips to the top of your head. You’d never felt safer. You’d never felt so at home.

“Darling, don’t you see?” he said gently. “You have already given me everything. You make me the happiest man alive just by being in my arms.”

The wind blew cold around you, but neither of you felt it. You were warm and cozy from your heart to your toes.

This was it. Everything had fallen right into place. You and Dear Friend were one in the same, not two separate identities. It was all you. Gwilym’s heart was fully yours, and yours was fully his. It was as if they traded chests as you embraced.

“Merry Christmas, Gwilym,” you sniffled, a small smile claiming your lips as you realized it was the first of many you would spend together.

He grinned. “Merry Christmas, my Dear Friend.”

You held each other again. Finally, you were at peace.

Peace like a river, blood on the drum

Something will chase me if I choose to run

Something will save me from life after love

Something like time

Something like peace like a river

Peace like a river

And peace in my mind

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siribear · 4 years ago

Text

whisper lists sideways before falling. deacon catches her, one arm under her shoulders, while her pack clatters to the ground. her head falls back as her legs finally give out, and he braces himself for her full weight to fall against him. and it’s not much; for all her shit-talking and recklessness, she’s so small.

‘okay, pal, this isn’t funny,’ he says, waiting for the punch-line. there isn’t one. even maccready looks over at her, just as surprised as he is. ‘whisper,’ he tries again. her breathing’s too shallow for this to be a joke. blood trickles from the corner of her mouth.

fuck.

‘we gotta get her inside.’ maccready’s not looking at him, but past him, out to the parking garage next to the building. and there’s the silhouette of a pair of ferals on the roof of it, and another walking out of the entrance to investigate. ‘now.’

deacon hoists her up, her legs under his other arm, and bridal carries her back into the building. the irony isn’t lost on him as he shoulders the door to carry her over the threshold, but now’s not the time to think about barbara. he spares a glance behind him to see maccready grabbing her stuff as another feral begins to cross the parking lot.

‘find a room. i’m gonna brace the door, just in case.’

the sound of metal scraping against the floor echoes around the room as maccready pulls a bench in front of the main entrance. deacon enters the first room with a working door and lays whisper out on a spare bed. if he didn’t know better, she could simply be sleeping. passed out from exhaustion - and all the blood vomiting that obviously precedes it. but he knows better, so he scrolls through the tabs on her pipboy, searching for a general diagnostic option and - there.

vital signs: not great. not surprising with her breaths coming out in ragged wheezes. when the rest of the scan loads, he finds the culprit. her rads are high enough the brotherhood can probably see them from their airship. enough to be near-fatal. he drags out a couple of radaways to start, and preps the surgical tubing and a needle. it’s been a while since he’s done this, not since his last extended undercover op, and much longer since he’s done it for someone else. but back then it didn’t matter where he stuck the needle. he spares himself a shudder before finding a vein in her other arm.

maccready slips into the room, places her back at the foot of the bed. he doesn’t question deacon holding up the bag of radaway in lieu of an IV stand. instead, he says, ‘they won’t get through the door, but we’ve got a few hours until they scatter. scent of blood drew them in, i bet.’

deacon watches as her rads tick down agonizingly slowly. hours. ‘guess we should make ourselves comfortable. i think we should make s’mores.’

she sneezes. dust, she thinks. just dust. kicked up when she and rachel straightened up the apartment. that’s all. but then she sneezes again and her head goes fuzzy. claire blows her nose, pinches the bridge of it, and sighs. nate comes home tomorrow - for good. and, of course, she has to get sick. rachel would call it her luck; claire says the universe hates her, but at least a sink-hole hasn’t opened up and swallowed her. but the day is young.

and it’s not how she pictured their reunion, with her in bed feverish from a cold instead of - well.

claire looks around the newly tidied apartment. from the small ‘master’ bedroom, to the guest room-turned-office, the cramped kitchen, the smaller living room. they’re to start a family, but, as it is, she can barely fit a dog once nate moves in. a family - claire falls heavily into her favorite chair, props her chin up by her palm. a family. her and nate. from a random meeting in a bar to... this. and she’s excited.

the rest of the day is spent trying not to crawl into bed and say there for the next week. she prepares for tomorrow’s dinner instead. home-cooked, instead of the usual microwaved meals she’s more accustomed to, like the perfect american wife. that night, she takes medicine to chase away the cold. come morning, she checks herself over. make up to cover up her pallor, mint for her breath, and a softer perfume to hide the medicinal smell about her.

perfect. everything has to be perfect. her hands shake all the way to the airport, and yet there’s hardly any traffic. perfect. their reunion, soft and quiet, just two lovers coming together after a long time away. perfect.

the way nate immediately picks up on her cold? not perfect, thank you for asking.

dinner cools, half finished on the counter, and claire sits, propped up in her own bed, barely able to breathe through her nose.

‘claire.’ nate brushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear. ‘you should have been resting. i could have called a cab.’

she rolls her eyes and takes another sip of her canned chicken noodle soup. ‘this wasn’t supposed to happen, obviously.’ the indignation in her nasally voice makes nate smile. ‘we were supposed to have this wonderful dinner and everything. i had it all planned out.’

calm, clear blue eyes smile back at her. ‘like the perfect wife?’ he chuckles, soft against the scar on his lip. ‘you didn’t have to - ‘ he pauses. ‘we aren’t... yet - ‘

‘the good, military man isn’t going to make an honest woman out of me?’ she sighs as dramatically as she can, and coughs. ‘and after all this trouble i went through. nathaniel, what would your mother say?’

nate blinks, wide-eyed and adorable. ‘that’s not what i meant.’

she smiles over her last sip. ‘then, yes, i will marry you.’

he places a hand against her forehead. ‘you seem to be feeling better if you can keep cracking jokes. here, i’ll take that.’ nate lifts the empty bowl from her hands and places a kiss high on her temple before turning to leave. ‘love you.’

‘i love you,’ she returns, eyes drooping. ‘nate, i...’

whisper opens her eyes slowly. ‘nate?’ she reaches out toward him when he turns back to her. one hand against his cheek, she rubs her thumb against the stubble she asked him to grow. ‘nate,’ she sighs. he takes her hand, removes it carefully from his face. ‘how long have i been asleep?’

‘only an hour or so.’ the voice that responds isn’t nate’s. she sits up immediately, arm tugging at the needle tucked under it.

‘what - ?’ whisper closes her eyes, hard, then opens them. she’s no longer in her small apartment bedroom, now lying on a weathered mattress in a ransacked room. ‘deacon, what happened?’

‘rad poisoning,’ deacon answers, voice rougher than normal. ‘when was the last time you checked your rads, partner? you were practically glowing. just in time for christmas in diamond city; you could have been the angel topper.’

whisper stares at him, frowning, then lets her gaze drift down to where his hand still hovers over hers. when she pulls away to take the needle from her arm, deacon doesn’t say anything. she looks up toward the door, over to maccready standing at the door, arms crossed.

‘you’re still here? shouldn’t you be - ‘ she swallows. ‘ - getting the cure to your son?’ deacon hands her a can of purified water. she drinks.

maccready huffs, pulls his hat down over his eyes. ‘a group of ferals crowded the place after you collapsed. couldn’t leave even if i wanted to.’ he sighs. ‘duncan can’t meet you if you’re dead.’

whisper averts her gaze in shame. she can’t meet his son - or her own - if she’s dead. ‘thank you,’ she tells him, then nods to the door. ‘is it clear?’

maccready unslings his rifle. ‘if it’s not, it’s gonna be. i’m ready when you are.’

thankfully, the ferals have gone by the they exit med-tek. maccready leads them back to goodneighbor, where they arrive long after dark. but the people of goodneighbor hardly keep regular schedules anyway. a fact he’s grateful for when he can still catch daisy before even she turns in for the day.

‘maccready,’ the ghoul greets him warmly. ‘you’ve been gone for a while. how’s my favorite guy been?’

he laughs, rubs the back of his neck. he’s always liked daisy. she’s been the only one he can trust here in the commonwealth. until recently. ‘i’m fine, daisy. more than fine.’ he pats the pocket of his jacket. ‘i’ve got it. duncan’s cure.’

her deep, black eyes widen. ‘you’re kidding. how’d you get it? last time the ferals almost got you.’

he gestures behind him, at alice leaning heavily against deacon, the both of them watching him. ‘she hired me on for a job, and, well - ‘ she beat an institute hitman to death with her bare hands. ‘ - she agreed to help me out.’

daisy looks over his shoulder. ‘huh, i remember you.’ daisy smiles. ‘thank you for helping out maccready. he’s a good kid.’

alice laughs. ‘he is. when he told me he had a kid of his own, i couldn’t not help, y’know?’

daisy eyes her, then deacon, and back. ‘nice to know the general of the minutemen really is a good person.’ when alice stiffens, ‘we all listen to the radio, and hancock talks to some of us. i may be old, but i can still put two and two together.’

‘old? you don’t look a day over a hundred, ma’am.’

daisy turns back to him. ‘i like her.’ maccready hands over the cure, tucked away in a box they found, double and triple packed to keep it safe. ‘i’ll make sure this makes it to duncan. got a trader that owes me a few favors.’

‘actually, daisy, i-i wanted to go with it.’

‘this is a very sudden goodbye, maccready.’

he shakes his head. ‘i plan to come back. i owe - i’m kind of a minuteman now. got a place up in sanctuary and everything.’

daisy smiles again, spares a glance toward alice. ‘well, all right, then. leave it to me. if you don’t mind watching the place for a minute, i’m gonna go talk to my guy. excuse me.’

alice walks fully into the corner store with deacon, of course, right behind her. ‘we aren’t staying here for the night. deacon... has some things he wants to check in on. so, i guess this is goodbye until you come back.’

maccready blinks, surprised. not that he should be, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little disappointed. he holds his hand out to her. ‘there’s, uh, really no way i can make this up to you. but thank you.’

she takes his hand and shakes it once before surprising him by pulling him into a hug. he has to lean over to return it, but he does, hiding his face in her shoulder. ‘make it up to me by coming back with duncan. i really can’t wait to meet him.’

she releases him with a kiss on his cheek. heat flushes his face, and in the streetlight he knows they can tell. ‘maybe-maybe he and shaun can be friends.’

her answering smile lights up the room, the alley, the city. in that moment, he understands deacon on at least one thing. ‘yeah, i think they could be. take care of yourself, maccready.’

deacon shakes his hand, and there’s no kiss on the cheek from him. but he does wish him well, grinning behind his sunglasses. ‘keep an eye on her. i imagine i’m not getting paid if she-if anything happens before i get back.’

‘all about the money with you,’ alice says with a shrug and a sigh, but still a friendly wave.

‘here.’ deacon pushes a small bag into his hands. ‘money and supplies she’s been setting aside for your trip.’ he turns to make sure she isn’t listening, but, no, she’s talking to the neighborhood watch. ‘she was going to leave it for you in the morning, but plan’s changed.’

maccready weighs it. it’s enough caps to last him months, and what feels like half their stash of stimpaks and radaways. which she wouldn’t have been able to put together with at least some of deacon’s input. but he lets deacon think he doesn’t know. ‘tell her i said thank you, again. caravan guards aren’t going to be as good as you two.’

'oh, we know. hence the supplies. take care, maccready.’

‘done talking to your best friend?’ whisper greets deacon when the neighborhood watch leaves her.

‘nah, partner.’ he slings an arm around her shoulders. ‘i’m talking to her right now. what was that about?’

immediately she shifts so he can take her weight. ‘hancock just wants to talk. then we can head back.’ to hq, goes unsaid. ‘he’s still up, so, shall we?’

he sweeps his arm toward the state house. ‘after you.’

#oc: alice ward #series: we will all go together when we go #siri drabbles

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antisocialsln · 2 years ago

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i feel like im dying. nobody wants me around anymore. everyones making it painfully clear theyre sick of me. im a hypocrite. i get upset that they choose drugs over me and drinking over me when i do the same anyway. im high most of the time i spend awake and if i can drag myself to the fucking store im drinking and ive just stopped addressing it now. the ghosts are out to get me. something followed me home the other day i saw it in the mirror it laughed in my ear. the voices have been back for longer than i dare admit but im so used to them that its somewhat comforting having them back. theyre more protective now theres something here. “cover the mirrors” “keep away from the windows” and such. theres always eyes in the dark. i cant make them go for long. there are shadows that move in every corner and ive gotten used to the bugs crawling all over me again. my family dont care, i tried to talk to them and all i was met with was laughter. something kept banging on the window, loud enough to make me jump so fast i went dizzy. i got my dad to check the garden, nothing there. it happened again. he was still in the kitchen. he didnt hear it. either time. neither did my mom. i saw something outside of the window but they didnt believe me they said it must have been in my headphones but it wasnt i rewound the video. no banging. something threw my cup off of the side. i was nowhere near it, home alone, no breeze, nothing else fell, no pets, nothing but me and something else. it threw my cup on the floor and it broke. i was having a good night. it was my favourite cup, i cant drink the drinks i need to drink every day without it. my routine is ruined. thats hard for me. i know it sounds stupid but i suppose you could say my autism clung onto this cup so i could hydrate. i feel empty now that its destroyed. i texted my dad. i told him i want the ghost stuff to stop. they need to make it stop. i cant handle it anymore. i dont feel safe alone in the house. he didnt take me seriously. he still things its my fault. he yelled in a public area that i have to stop being so clumsy, he tried to tell me i was drunk. “you were drunk. you knocked it off the side. you were pissed. you drank way too much” i know i didnt i didnt have anything to drink and the only pills i took where after the matter to calm down and go for a walk high because thats the only thing i could do i couldnt stay in the house. its all so hazy. it feels weird. i experienced the whole thing in 3rd person. ive been tunnelvisioned for weeks now. the color from everything is dull to me and i dont really enjoy anything anymore unless im playing a character. i tried to explain to my father that i want to die. i tried to tell him i know i am going to kill myself and he told me to “stop being so fucking dramatic”. every day now he yells at me for not getting out of bed, for being lazy. but im hardly sleeping at night the only rest i get is in the day i cant sleep at night anymore and im hardly sleeping in the day anyway i fall asleep at 8-9am and i wake up every 30-60minutes until i get yelled at around 2pm to get up. im mostly mute now. nobody comes to see me. leaving the house to go anywhere but sit on a park swing alone in the dark at night is terrifying and im supposed to be going to comic con on friday. i cant die no matter how much i try ive definitely hit 10-15 attempts in the past year by now. 2 alone this month and its only november. no matter how many pills i take, no matter if i swallow glass, no matter what medication i mix with alcohol, no matter how much i bleed or dont breathe. i just cant die. im immortal. and its killing me in a completely different way to what i want. and yet i still have this irrational fear of almost dying and needing hospital intervention. not even out of fear of being sectioned. i almost want to now. i almost want them to throw me in a psych ward and leave me there. the fear is if that happens, even if im just in for a night. my parents will never let it go, they will never let me go, itll all get worse. ill get no privacy, they will be on my ass all the time. just because it would make them look bad. im trying to go to uni just so i can show them i can move out so thats easily 4 more years of this fucking bullshit before i get a chance at being free. i really dont know how much more of anything i can take. i dont want to be here. i really, really do not.

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prewars · 7 years ago

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heres that list of unsolicited fic recs that ive amassed over the past few years when i get certain itches to deep-dive ao3 and be disappointed, this isnt everything but these are ones over 5k, mostly over 10k, thanks for the unnecessary encouragement @sonnywortzik @becominganoven @donotloseme @dicktective

Crossed in the places that you never knew to get through by noelia_g (generation kill)

It's not the real beginning. Things have happened before that led to this, things thousands years in the making and things quite recent, like the wound still bleeding, dark blood seeping into the dirt. But it's a beginning nonetheless. Right here, right now, this happens.

Après moi le deluge by beyond_belief (gen kill)

He can pop Motrin for the pain but there's nothing to be done for his jagged nerves. Rudy suggests more yoga, his mom suggests meditation, Patrick suggests he get laid. The Corps suggests a promotion, and Nate finds himself a Captain. There's a small voice in the back of his head that says, This isn't what you want, and it's getting louder day by day.

Aftermath, USA by traveller (gen kill)

The morning of the assassination, Patti Jankowski got up, took a long shower and towel dried her hair before braiding it into two long ropes that hung over her shoulders. She put on jeans, a t-shirt that showed Mickey Mouse saluting the American Flag, a light tan windbreaker and her comfortable blue SAS sneakers. In her shoulder bag she put a Smith and Wesson .22 caliber revolver, and an umbrella. The forecast was for a 62% chance of rain.

Adrift by visiblemarket (constantine)

Time was, Chas would’ve offered John the bed to make sure he rested, then crammed himself atop the sagging, scratchy, ancient cushions instead. That time has clearly passed. John tries not to let it bother him, but he’s had a hard enough time sleeping lately, and as soft and warm as the blanket Chas tossed him the night before was, it hadn’t much helped. And so he awakens to birds chirping, sun streaming through big airy windows, and a colossal headache.

to know me as hardly golden is to know me all wrong by norgbelulah (justified)

The God’s honest truth of it was that he didn’t want to be whatever Boyd was, he didn’t want to be Boyd Crowder’s friend, and he didn’t want to follow him down into the darkness that was always waiting for them both. And he knew if he stayed, he would be all of those things and learn not to mind them.

I Have Always Lived in the Moment by scioscribe (justified)

Tim says that technically he was only mostly dead, and mostly dead is still slightly alive. The witty repartee would be more convincing if Tim could get some color back into his face. Raylan remembers an overwhelming whiteness. Art wants to know: Like the tunnel with the light at the end of it? No, Raylan says, blander than that, and icier, too. Like an afterlife manufactured by IKEA.

To Call the Darkness Home by scioscribe (justified)

After a time, even the nightmares stopped, and he started bitching like an ordinary person about the low pay and the roaches, exactly as if Lexington hadn’t been his longed-for salvation. But there must have been some uneasiness in him that he just hadn’t paid any mind, because every time he had left, he had gone farther and farther away, until he had threatened to run right off the coast into the Atlantic.

Where's Waldo? by swamplamp (better call saul)

Jesse Pinkman manifests on his doorstep like a wet dream that nobody asked for. It's 4 AM. "You're a sight for sore eyes," Saul remarks flatly, squinting out towards that semi-familiar face. Seeing Pinkman lets old feelings roll back in and isn't that a shame? Saul makes to shut the door and go back to a kinder slumber. But he stops. Saul feels a twinge of sympathy worming its way into his chest before he can start pulling the door closed. They stand there for a moment, steeped in caution and confusion.

By daybreak we'll be gone by storm_petrel (the losers)

Clay has a handful of life philosophies that he’s gained though years of extremely hard-won experience. Sleep when you can. Keep track of where you stash your boots and dog tags, because they don’t come with you. Trust the people who earn your trust. When in doubt, and in the absence of a proper machine gun, go for a sidearm with more than ten rounds in the magazine and minimum .38 calibre for decent stopping power. If still in doubt, shift out and go for the jugular.

In All the Tongues of Men and Angels by coinin (the losers)

Carlos Alvarez, first son after three daughters, was not supposed to join the Army. Carlos Alvarez was supposed to go to college, major in something useful like business or civil engineering, graduate with honors, marry a nice Catholic girl, and provide his parents with grandchildren while establishing himself in a respectable field of employment. Unfortunately for his parents, Carlos Alvarez was of the opinion that the suburban American ideal could go fuck itself.

the prisoner's dilemma by arbitrarily (free fire)

“Jesus Christ. What the fuck happened to you two?”

“First date,” Justine says.

“Went dutch,” Chris says.

Places We Don't Belong by easternepiphany (community)

Yesterday they went hiking in the Sandia Mountains, made it to the top of the trail, and celebrated by making out against a tree, slick with sweat. They were caught by a family of four, two parents and a son and a daughter, all who looked on in horror. The mother asked, in a stern and angry voice, weren’t they a little old for such antics. “Probably,” he said with a shrug and she bit her lip to keep from laughing.

A Fool For Your Face by Ghostcat (you’re the worst)

The days after Becca and Vernon’s shitstorm of a party were golden, as if he and Gretchen were finally alone. As if her depression had moved house, left the country, waved goodbye. They laughed and fucked, got drunk or didn't. Did drugs or went dry. Or kissed. For hours. Leaning against the brick wall of some local dive turned glorious oasis because of her lips.

But the walls are giving way by FanchonMoreau (mozart in the jungle)

“You don’t have to feel obligated to stay with us,” Cynthia tells him. “But you’re my orchestra,” Rodrigo insists. She smiles. “We’re big kids. We can take care of ourselves. Take a gig somewhere else if you need to. Trust me, we’ve got this.” He does trust her, and he trusts his orchestra. And he’s not stupid enough to miss the implication that perhaps he’s not wanted here, at this particular moment.

the grave robbers by arbitrarily (american gods)

“Okay, fine. I liked vodka and I liked whiskey. I didn’t even like the top shelf shit — I liked the cheap stuff, the stuff that burned on its way down. I liked it when I felt like it could make me choke. I liked when my bedsheets were tucked in so tight I could barely crawl in under the covers and I slept like I was trapped. I liked the smell of bug spray. I liked the burn of that, too. I liked when I stayed in the tub too long and my skin went all wrinkly and gross, and okay, I get the fucking irony of that now — no need to remind me. I liked when glue dried on my fingers and I’d peel it off. I liked angel food cake. I liked when I’d lay in bed at night sometimes and be just about to fall asleep, but then, I’d jolt awake, like I was falling down a flight of stairs or something in my almost dreams. Or whatever. You know — everyone knows that feeling.”

Reconstruction Site by disco_vendetta (pacific rim)

One day he looks up from the scaffolding and realizes that he’s almost exactly at Jaeger height and has to wrap his hand tight against the metal to keep from stepping out into the air. Not because he wants to kill himself or anything, just because for a split second his mind felt that old equilibrium and he just knew he should be able to, should be able to walk straight across the valley in front of him and out into the sea and on forever until he finds whatever’s next.

Benediction by sistermercury (the exorcist)

“I had to see.” Tomas starts weakly, and something inside Marcus begs for both of them to stop; Begging Tomas because he doesn’t want to know, can’t hear about another goddamn vision, not tonight. Begging himself, because something’s gone wrong and his self-righteousness can wait. It won’t be the first time Marcus fails to follow his own good advice.

he's alive! i'm alive! we're all alive! (oh, this case just got busted wide open) by rustykitchenscissors (mcu)

The next day, he rides his new motorcycle downtown and walks around until he sees a store full of the kinds of phones the other Avengers use. They’re all so thin he thinks they’ll break the moment he picks them up. Like how Bucky said for a while after, “I bet you met your old self like this, you’d break all his bones just going for a handshake, huh?” Only when drunk, of course. That mix of bitter and wonderstruck, hair scrambled across his forehead. “I bet you’ll snap me in half without thinking one of these days.” And Steve would throw an arm across his shoulders and pull him in tight to make sure he knew, Look, fuck that. I swear to God you’re steel to your core.

a tree grows in brooklyn by newsbypostcard (mcu)

"It's done, Buck," he says painfully, lying himself back on the ground. "All that's left is to leave." They don't leave. He can't. His chest rises and falls, too hard and too obvious.

Responsible Science by lettered (mcu)

Three weeks after Bruce left New York, Black Widow found him in Honduras.

the blackberries in the thickets by newsbypostcard (mcu)

"You are James Buchanan -- like the President -- from Illinois, Nevada, California, and New Jersey. I am Grant Stevens -- wanted to be Ulysses Grant, but Nat said two dead presidents living at the same address might sound a little fishy -- from Florida, Connecticut, Washington, and New York."

Bucky frowns at him. "How come you get New York?"

"Just worked out that way."

Life of Crime by neveralarch (mcu)

It's really hard to run through Boston when you're carrying a quiver on your back, a bow in one hand, and a huge bag of money in the other. Still, Clint's doing fine—he's had a ton of practice, after all. He's never going to win any Olympic medals (for, okay, lots of reasons), but he's fast enough for a guy on foot. Doesn't matter, because this chick's gaining on him anyway. Fucking flying. It's gotta be cheating.

#there's like probably half a million words here so have fun

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dont-speak-just-read · 7 years ago

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No Freaking Way

Bucky x reader Dad!Tony x Daughter!reader Summary: You're a high school grad who lost your mother and doesn't know their father. You are hoping to get an internship at Stark Tower. You were fascinated with Tony Stark and his technology. Little did you know he was your father. You first met Bucky and you instantly feel something. Warnings: death, funeral, cursing, guilt, lust ( think that is it)

You never met your father. Your mum always told you that he left her before he even knew about you. You always wondered would he have stayed if he had known about you? Why didn't she ever reach out to him? Did she keep it a secret because she didn't know who he was? You hardly ever asked about him because you felt that if you asked too much your mum would feel as though she wasn't enough. But the definitely was not the case.

You just wanted to know more about yourself. Were you more like your father or mum? What was he like. Was he tall? What color are his eyes? What did he do for a living? What was his favorite thing to do? Would he have been a good father? You would make up different scenarios in your head. You just wanted to know if your life would have been different if you would've had him in your life or at least met him. You hoped that on your 18th birthday your mom would finally tell you. You thought you were finally old enough to understand.

Your birthday was coming up and you were excited. You were excited because you were going to start a new chapter in your life. You just graduated high school as Valedictorian. You can still remember the day like it was yesterday. It was a wonderful May night. You gave a speech on never forgetting who you are and always striving to be better. To continue to prove that we as the next generation are going to change America by not taking crap from anyone. You ending it with we are no longer the kids of the future but the adults of the future. You went to grad night and had the time of your life. The last night of everyone being together before you all headed out for college. You were accepted to all the colleges you applied for but decided NYU was the way to go because it was close to the new home you purchased for your mum. And also close to the Stark tower where you hoped to intern this summer.

It was about a month before your birthday and your mum got very ill. She was all you had. You never met any other relative so she was your everything. She was sick for about two years but this past year was harsh. She hoped you wouldn't find out that she was this sick until you were in college. She didn't know that you had bought a house for her in New York. You wanted to be close to her. You thought that her being in California and you in New York was too far away.

She hadn't planned on you buying a house. She hoped that when she passed you wouldn't have to see her as sick as she was. She was going to call you up and tell you to go see her in Cali. She had stage IV breast cancer. She didn't want you to worry about her. She was a fighter and if you knew the severity you would have treated her differently and she wouldn't have made it this far.

One night when you came home from work you saw your mum laying on the couch. You walked into the living room and went to sit by her, that is when you realized that she wasn’t breathing too well. You helped her up and you both walked to the car. As you drove her to the hospital all you could think of was, that these were your last moments with her. You couldn’t believe that you hadn’t realized she was this sick. You were too worried about school, work, and getting all of the money for the new house. As you reached the hospital you wheeled her in and just like that, they took her from you.

When she was finally situated in a room, the doctors told you that she didn't have much time. She had been battling it for awhile and you never noticed how severe it was. You wish you could back and change everything. You would get up early every day and go to school, stay late for school activities then part-time work and repeat Monday-Friday. You would take longer shifts on Saturday's and Sunday’s to save for the new house. You were hardly ever home. You thought if you would have been more attentive at home she wouldn't have had to battle this alone.

You felt guilty because she was always working so you had everything you ever needed for school. She saved up money for you to go to college because she wasn't sure if you were going to get a scholarship or not. She didn't ask much from you but to work hard and get good grades. She wanted the best for you. She never wanted to see you struggle and she never wanted to see you hurt. She figured it would be easier on you too not have to constantly worry about her. "Mum why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you get help? We have my college tuition money!" You yelled. "Y/N please I don't want to argue. I didn't want to tell you because it was your senior year and I wanted you to enjoy it." Your mum whispered. "You should have told me. I could have helped. I would have gotten a second job. I could have helped you." Tears streaming down your face. "You're all I have and I don't know what I am going to do if I lose you, Mum. You are the most important person to me and you didn't tell me. You should have gotten help." "I didn't want to burden you. I knew you were busy with school. I didn't tell you because you have so-much potential-that I knew that if you- knew you would give it up. And I didn't want you too. I love you and all I've ever wanted was for you to succeed." coughing in between because it was hard for her to breathe."You can do anything y/n. You will succeed and even if I am not here to see it physically I will always be here in your heart." Tears streaming down both of your faces.

It's been a week since you found out about your mum. You felt like shit. The only thing that kept you going was that she was still fighting. She was getting a little better so you told her you were going to go home and get clothes for the both of them. Before leaving you told her " I love you mum. You are my hero and you always will be no matter what happens to us. I want you to know that I appreciate everything you've done for me. I love you so much, mum." Kissing the top of her head.

You were glad that the hospital was only a few blocks from the apartment. You ran home and got your stuff and ran back as quickly as possible. When you got there, you saw multiple nurses in the room with your mum. You dropped everything and ran to her. "I'm right here mom you don't have to worry I'm not going leave your side." Tears a steaming. They finally got her to where she needs to be for her to be stable. Before falling asleep one last time your mother told you " I want you to know something. I want you to know that you are inspirational. You are talented, gifted, beautiful and kind. Even if the world wrongs you promise me you'll never do anything I wouldn't approve of. I love you (Y/N) more than you'll ever know. When you have children of your own you will understand why I kept this a secret. You are my beautiful girl. Don't ever forget how proud I am of you. I love you always." "I love you too mom now get some sleep so you can get better." You both fell fast asleep only to be woken up by the sound of a flat line. You didn't want to believe it. You just hoped it was a nightmare. You turned until you realized it wasn't. You were sobbing and screaming "HELP PLEASE SOMEONE HELP.”

But you already knew it was too late there was nothing they could do. You felt helpless and alone. You couldn't believe it your mum was actually gone. The next morning you woke up in bed. You didn't know how you got there or what happened after you left the hospital but all you remembered was losing your mUm was not a dream. The next week was one of the worst days of your life. You planned the funeral and it was a small service. During the week leading up to the funeral, a lot of your friends visited and family you never met even came by. You were furious when they showed up. All you could think of was how they want to be a part of your life after your mum had passed. During the funeral, you said your word and final goodbyes. Your friends offer to take you home but you wanted to be alone. You stayed about an hour-longer to talk to your mum. Apologizing for not realizing sooner and promising her that you will continue your hard work and her legacy.

You noticed someone staring at you. That is when you realized who it was. It was Pepper Potts Tony freaking Starks girlfriend. You wondered why she was there. Most likely to tell you about the internship. She walked up and said, "Hello I'm Pepper and I assume you are (Y/n)." You nodded unable to say anything due to the fact you just buried your Mum. "Well, I wanted to congratulate you in person. I tried calling but I got no answer so I hoped I could find you somewhere to tell you about your internship." You scoffed "Listen, Pepper is it." But you knew exactly who she was, she was dating one of your idols. " I don't want your pity so, if you are only offering me this because I just laid my mum to rest you and Mr. Stark can go fuck yourselves." You both just stared at each other for about a min before she spoke up "Look, kid, he wanted to give you this internship before you even graduated high school. He had seen you at the national science fair and he saw how interested you were in engineering and he said you reminded him of a younger him. He also saw you at the decathlon. You won for your team isn't that right." You looked up confused as to why he wanted you. "You were the top of your class, right? Miss valedictorian." She sat you down on the bench and explained more. He said you were fascinating and looked you up. He found out who you were and what your grades were like and he said he had to have the best. "So here we are. We understand if you need a couple of weeks even months the internship is yours whenever you want it." She said. You asked, " When can I start." You need a distraction from everything that has been going on you need a break. "Whenever you want. How about tomorrow come to the tower around noon if that's good with you." She replied. ----------------- It was 11:15 when you were finally ready. You put on a pair of blue jeans with a black shirt and Maroon docs. You remember Pepper telling you to dress comfortably. So you wore what you would wear anywhere. You were going to drive but it said it would have taken an hour because of traffic. The bus route was faster. You ran to the bus but just missed it. You knew the next bus wouldn't arrive for about 20 mins about a ten-minute difference if you just walked/jogged there. So you were walking and at a pretty quick pace so you could get to the tower. Or so you thought. When you finally reached the tower it was 11:56. You didn't know exactly how to get to where you needed to be. When you were searching for someone to help you, you bumped into a beautiful tall man with brown hair and blue eyes. "Oh my god, I am so sorry. I'm in a rush. Sorry." You apologize not looking at him yet. When you do you see his beautiful blue eyes shine off the sun.

‘It's okay, doll. It was my fault I wasn't watching where I was going." He spoke sweetly You couldn't help but just stare at how beautiful he was. "You said you were in a rush. I think I can help who are you looking for?" He asked "I'm looking for Tony Stark." "You can find him on the six floor just head in the elevator and say FRIDAY take me to Tony. And she will get you there." He stood smiling at you. "Thanks so much." You stared before realizing you were going to be late. "Okay well, it was nice meeting you." As you walk away you turn "Oh I didn't catch your name what was it?" You asked "It's bu- it's James my name is James." "Well thank you, James, it was a pleasure." "Oh Doll, before I forget what is your name?" "It's (Y/N)!" You yelled just a little because of distance. He whispered, " I figured it was something beautiful." He spoke louder " It was nice to meet you. Hope to see you around." On the elevator ride where you were in awe. You hoped that you would see him around more often. You smiled at the ground, you hadn't thought about your mum at all until you saw your reflection in the elevators "mirrors". At that moment you thought that you thinking about a guy was the wrong decision. You just needed to focus on this internship. As you walked down the hallway you got to the door. As you stood in front of his door you knocked softly twice and then the third with force. You thought this is it. First impressions are everything. As you stand there ready the door opens and there he is your father a.k.a Tony Stark.

let me know if you wanna be tagged in future fics. :)

@winter-childrens @winter-commandos @marvel-is-ruining-my-life

#dad!tonyxreader #tony x daughter #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagines #tony imagine #tony!dad #tony stark x reader #i hope you like it #no freaking way #marvel imagine #marvel angst #marvel stan #Dontspeakjustread

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distant-rose-archive-blog · 7 years ago

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The Delilah Affair

Note: I promised I would post something and I did...late as fuck. I apologize for that. I literally wrote half last night and then half on the plane today as I was flying from London to the United States. This is probably chalk full of erros and for that I apologize, but I’m jetlagged as hell. I was originally going to write a nightmare fic with Wes, but for some reason this muse stuck with me. It’s kinda the original behind Wes’s long ass hair. Anyway, I’m planning on posting A LOT of stuff this week. It’s going to be crazy. In case you were wondering, the title is based upon the story of Sampson and Delilah. Anyway, happy anniversary to my bestie @welllpthisishappening, who is instrumental behind the creation of this series and without her influence, I wouldn’t even posted this nonsense. Summary: She and Killian weren’t in a bad way when it came to their finances, but they try to save their pennies when they can. So naturally when it came to haircuts, they preferred to do the cutting themselves rather than spend an extra twenty dollars on a professional job in a salon or a barber shop. However, during a routine trim, Emma makes a grave error. Rating: T Word Count: 3,300+

Most people tend to believe that the hardest part about being a parent was the near constant juggling of obligations or the lack of real social life, but for Emma Swan, the hardest part was screwing up. It didn’t happen too often but when it did, she couldn’t help but feel like a failure. She realized how illogical it was to assume everything would go perfectly but still whenever it happened, whether it be a missed football game or forgetting to make dinner, Emma would feel like the worst person in all of the realms.

Which is why when she accidentally sheared Wes’s hair off like sheep wool, she nearly had a mental breakdown.

She and Killian weren’t in a bad way when it came to their finances, if anything, they were in pretty solid shape despite the rather large size of their brood. (She wasn’t entirely terrified by the concept of potentially paying for five college educations as most in her position would be.) Nevertheless, they were frugal in their spending; past experience on both ends dictating that they squeeze each and every penny of its full worth. If a piece of clothing was torn, they were more likely to mend it than purchase a new one. Leftovers from dinner were frozen for later consumption rather than tossed away thoughtlessly. Emma saved every single takeout container they accumulated rather than buying more Tupperware. Their children prepared their own lunches at home under her careful supervision rather than spending money on hot lunches. They weren’t deliberately trying to be austere, it was just an ingrained habit to be cost effective.

So naturally when it came to haircuts, they preferred to do the cutting themselves rather than spend an extra twenty dollars on a professional job in a salon or a barber shop. Both of them had been cutting and maintaining their own hair for years (centuries in Killian’s case), so it wasn’t necessarily a hardship.

And yet, Emma made the most rookie of all rookie mistakes: not checking the setting on the razor before she began her work. (However, in her defense, the razor wasn’t normally set on the lowest setting. Neddy’s preschool class recently had an outbreak of head lice and in a preemptive measure they had shaved his head. Obviously, they had forgotten to change the setting.)

Her error became very apparent when Emma brought the razor against the curve of his head and more hair loped off than anticipated, leaving a large and very noticeable bald spot.

“Oh shit.”

She immediately turned off the device and stared at it in horror. She had been planning on giving Wes a small trim since it had become quite unruly, but instead she had buzzed it down almost entirely to his skull; pale skin peeking through the barely there short blond bristles.

“Mom…what’s going on? Is the razor not working?” Wes asked, completely unaware of his mother’s folly.

Emma didn’t reply; not knowing what to say or do. She just stared at her mistake, internally screaming. She tried to will his hair to grow back with every fiber of her being but no matter how hard she tried, the bald spot remained. (A part of her wished she knew a spell to regrow hair but then again her magic had always been a tad unpredictable and there was no telling what other affects it would have on her son if she tried.)

“Mom…what’s wrong?”

“Mom made a little mistake, kid,” she replied, feeling like the worst parent in the universe.

“What did you do?”

She couldn’t see his face, but she could imagine his panicked expression vividly in her mind; blue eyes the size of dinner plates and lip trembling.

“Ummm…”

“Mom…what did you do?”

She couldn’t bring herself to voice what had happened. When she didn’t speak, Wes immediately reach behind with an inquisitive hand, probing his hair. His fingers stilled when he discovered the patch where Emma had shaved his hair off. She cringed, guilty filling her.

“Mom…” His voice cracked.

“I’m so sorry,” Emma said, dropping the razor and squeezing his shoulders.

“I’m bald.”

“Only in that one spot.”

“I can’t go to school with a bald spot!” he squawked.

“I know! I know! I know!” She pulled her hands away from his shoulders and rubbed at her face, trying to scrub away her mortification. She screwed up majorly. She was the worst.

“What are we gonna do?”

“We could call Regina…” Emma replied, biting her lip.

“She won’t help on this,” Wes replied, shaking his head. There was a slight whine to his voice.

“You don’t know that,” she said sympathetically, rubbing his back.

“No, I know she won’t. Bobbi tried asking her for a spell to get rid of acme and Regina said magic wasn’t a toy and shouldn’t be used for trivial things. And Bobbi legit looked like a pizza face! If she didn’t help Bobbi when she was looking like that, and she loves Bobs, then she’s definitely not gonna help me!”

“I’m sure if I asked her –” “No!” he interrupted her. “That would be so, so, so much worse!”

“Okay, okay, okay! No Regina! I heard you loud and clear,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What do you want me to do, kid?”

“I don’t know…”

“I think I’m gonna have to shave off the rest of it.”

“Seriously?” he groaned.

“I don’t see any other way out of this, kiddo.”

Wes didn’t reply immediately. He just stared at the wall in front of them, shoulders stiff. Emma didn’t necessarily blame him. She had just suggested to shave the rest of his head and there was no telling how that would go.

“Do it,” he replied in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” she sighed, picking up the razor once more. “For what it’s worth, it’s hair and it will go grow back…in like two-three weeks. Hopefully.”

“Might as well be an eternity,” he moaned.

A muscle in Emma’s cheek twitched. A part of her wanted to hit him on the shoulder for his dramatics, but she had to remind herself that this was all her fault in the first place. She was the one who had fucked up.

“Hardly an eternity but for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry. Like really sorry.”

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbled. “I’m gonna look like Leroy, Mom.”

“I don’t think you have the beard to fully pull that look off, kid.”

“But I will look just as ugly.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“But I will,” he insisted.

“You’re gonna look fine,” Emma said firmly. “I’ve seen you bald before when you were a baby. It took literally forever for your hair to come in. You had nearly no hair until you were two and you looked absolutely fine.”

“Yeah, but I was a baby and nobody cares about babies being bald. That’s, like, normal.”

“You know right now, I’m not sure if you’re a baby or not with all that whining you’re doing,” Emma replied, losing her patience. “No, stop whining and hold still while I shave the rest of it. I don’t want to hurt you accidentally.”

Wes let ought another heavy sigh but didn’t offer any further commentary. She took this as a signal that he was going to stop whining and finally let her do her job. She turned the razor back on and went to work, carefully and slowly shaving off the rest of his fair colored-mop. Wes flinched a few times as the razor got a little too close to the sensitive skin of his scalp but Emma, for the most, was patient and gentle with the instrument. She couldn’t help but grimace as she watched the golden strands fall to the floor. Wes was the only one of her children to inherit her fairer complexion and blond hair. While all of her sons all bore a rather strong resemblance to their fathers, Wes was the only one who noticeably had some of Emma’s features; inheriting her cheeks and chin alongside her colouring.

When she was finished, she ran her hand carefully against his scalp; silently mourning the temporary loss of his pale locks. Before her mishap, Wes’s hair was soft and fine, almost silk-like, but now it was barely there and rough against her palm.

“Turn around and let me have a look.”

Wes obeyed but when he faced her, his lips were twisted into a deep scowl and honestly, Emma couldn’t blame him. This wasn’t what she had imagined when she had decided to give him a trim.

“I look horrible, don’t I?” he asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“You look fine,” Emma reassured him, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder.

He didn’t look fine. Maybe the shaved look would have worked for him if he had inherited his father’s darker features but unfortunately he had her fair coloring and without his hair, it also looked like he had no eyebrows. Her second youngest son looked like he belonged on a St. Jude’s charity advertisement. All he needed was the hospital bed, a pale blue smock and an IV running through his arm.

“You’re lying,” he stated flatly.

“Am not.”

“You are. You always have that funny look on your face when you lie. For someone who is oh so good at detecting lies, you’re positively crap at telling them. Word of advice, Mom, don’t play poker.”

“You’re worrying about this too much,” Emma responded, dodging his statement. As borderline disrespectful as it was, she knew it was the truth. The kid had inherited her blunt and near non-existent social grace. Sometimes she found Wes to be disturbingly similar to her in a way her other children weren’t; sharp acid tongue, weaponized sarcasm, quick sticky fingers and a little angry with the world.

“And now you’re avoiding the subject. I must really look ugly.”

“You don’t look ugly, I promise. You look absolutely fine.”

As she spoke, Harrison and Beth walked into her bedroom, both sweaty and covered in dirt. Blood was trickling from Beth’s chin, which looked nastily scrapped. Despite this, she looked fine, chattering away while her thirteen-year old son nodded obligingly. Both stopped in their tracks when they saw Emma and Wes.

“What happened to you?” Wes asked, gesturing to Beth’s chin.

“Fell out of a tree.” Emma’s nine-year old daughter shrugged casually, as if she were discussing the weather rather than a painful looking facial wound. “Har said he was gonna catch me and totally let me drop. He owes me like a million Star Wars band aids.”

“You don’t need million band aids. That’s overkill and I didn’t do it on purpose!” Harrison replied defensively before regarding his younger brother with a frown. “And what happened to you? You look like a cancer patient.”

Wes’s face colored at the comment and Emma get her second oldest son a reproachful look. Harrison, ever the most observant of her children, also flushed when he noticed his mother’s silent reprimand; tugging on his earlobe and shuffling his feet uncomfortably.

“I was gonna say he looked like a skinhead,” Beth said bluntly.

Harrison punched her arm, frowning at her.

“That wasn’t nice. Do you even know what a skinhead is?”

“Of course, I do!” Beth snapped back, hitting him back. “It’s one of those creepy people that Mom and Dad arrested last week with the bald heads and the crap tattoos and the weird leather and that stuff they were trying to spray paint on the school.”

“It really looks that bad then,” Wes grimaced. He brushed hand against his shorn scalp self-consciously.

“It doesn’t,” Emma said firmly, raising her eyebrows at her other children; signaling to them that they were not to contradict her.

“Well, you don’t look like you…” Harrison replied. “So, it’s…interesting.”

Wes’s flush deepened at his words. He didn’t reply, just ran into the bathroom as he continued to run his hands against his freshly razored hair. He slammed the door behind him with enough force that it nearly caused Emma to jump. As the door shut, Emma turned to glare at her other two children.

“Was that necessary? Seriously, both of you!” she hissed.

“Sorry Mom!” Harrison replied, placing his hands up in surrender.

“He looks like a skinhead!” Beth replied defensively, not as willing as her older brother to admit her blunder.

“Even if he does, you don’t say things like that! That’s a horrible thing to say and I raised you better than that, Elizabeth!” Emma admonished.

Beth wilted a bit under her mother’s scolding, eyes darting down to look at her feet. Harrison took a step away from her, as if distancing himself from his sister would lessen his chances of being yelled at as well.

“Sorry,” her daughter mumbled.

“It’s not me you need to say you’re sorry to,” Emma replied, folding her arms across her chest. “And when he gets out of the bathroom, you’re going to tell him you’re sorry and that you love him and you aren’t going to say mean things anymore. Got it?”

“Got it,” she mumbled, eyes still trained on her feet.

Emma allowed herself to soften a bit, stepping forward and kneeling down so she could inspect her daughter’s face, particularly the bloody scrape on her chin. Now that she was close enough, Emma could see the beginning of a bruise starting to form around her right cheek.

“That must have been a nasty fall. Are you hurt?” she asked gently.

“No.” Beth shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. If there was one thing that Emma knew about her nine-year old, it was that she tried constantly to appear tougher than her brothers. Emma couldn’t decide if this was a product of her environment or something she had inherited from her father.

“Well, if don’t look deep enough to get stitches over. But it definitely needs to be cleaned,” she commented before her eyes flickered in the direction of her son. “There’s hydrogen oxide cleaner in the downstairs cabinet along with some band aids. Help your sister get cleaned and get her an ice pack while I’m tending to your brother who is justifiably traumatized. You are not to tease him. Do you understand me?”

Harrison nodded obediently, placing his hand on his younger sister’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t need an ice pack,” Beth pouted. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“You forget my superpower, kid,” Emma responded, tapping her on the nose. “I know when you’re lying and that definitely looks like it hurts. Just be good for Harrison.”

With that Emma clapped her hand on her daughter’s shoulder for a brief moment than turned to head towards the bathroom, where her son was more likely than not freaking out about his hair loss. She rapped her knuckles gently against the door.

“Westley? Kid? Can I come in?”

She sighed quietly when she received no response. She pushed the door open as gently as she could. Wes was standing in front of the mirror, hands slightly quivering as they ran over his shorn hair. He looked miserable.

“Oh kid,” Emma sighed, moving behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She placed a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault…”

“I look like Caillou, Mom,” he replied miserably. “No one likes Caillou. He’s annoying and bald and even Neddy hates him and that kid would cuddle the Black Fairy.”

“You do not look like Caillou, Wes. It’s gonna grow back. I promise…” Emma replied helplessly. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault…”

“What am I going to do? People are gonna laugh at him. Bobbi is going to totally take tons of pictures of this so she can torture me with them. Even Gideon is going to laugh.”

“Gideon is not going to laugh and Bobbi is not going to take pictures of you, I promise. I’m not gonna let that happen to you.”

“You can’t stop them” he replied stubbornly.

“But I can.”

“How?”

“How is not important. It’s going to happen. It’s my job as the Savior, kid. If I can’t protect you, then I can’t protect anyone.”

Wes didn’t say anything. He just scowled at his reflection in the mirror, which made it quite to clear to her that he didn’t necessarily believe her. Emma sighed, placing her hand on his head, rubbing circles against the skin. Her thumb grazed the thin delicate shell of his ear and she couldn’t help but notice how pointed the tips of it was.

“You got your dad’s ears along with his eyes, kid,” she thought aloud.

“No, I look like bald elf.”

“You don’t. You look like your dad. Especially without the blonde.”

“Dad’s not bald.”

“I think you’re focusing a little too much on the baldness, kid,” she replied, tugging on his ear.

“Yeah because it makes me look like a freak!” he said bitterly. His posture then deflated, shoulders sagging and lip trembling. His eyes met hers in the mirror and the sad look in them was a direct stab in her heart. Wes, who was seemed so confident and so resilient, looked ready to cry. “I can’t go out in public looking like this, Mom…”

“I’m sorry.” She repeated the two words she had been saying all night. There was nothing else she could say except those words.

“I know,” he huffed, annoyed. “You keep saying that.”

“Because I am.” She rested her head on top of his as she ran her hands from down his arms in what she hoped was a smoothing manner. “I don’t know how but I’m going to figure this out and we’re gonna get through this…”

“How?”

Emma was silent for a moment as she tried to think of a solution. There was absolutely nothing they could do about his hair now, but it was very clear to her that her son would avoid going out in public in such state if he could help it. He needed something to cover it. Perhaps a hat.

She then smiled as an idea hit her. She placed a quick kiss on his head.

“Wait here. I have an idea.”

She immediately left the bathroom and made a beeline to her closet. She reached for the cardboard box, which held all of her winter things. She smiled as she pulled out one of her numerous beanies. It was black and made from one of the most softer materials she owned.

When she returned to the bathroom where Wes was still agonizing, she immediately placed the beanie on his head, folding the brim so it fit snug and covered the tips of his ears.

“There,” she smiled. “Now you can’t tell that you have no hair.”

“Where did you get the beanie?”

“It’s from the Emma Swan collection.”

Wes scrunched his nose in response.

“So it’s a girl beanie?”

“Kid, it’s black. Black doesn’t have a gender I’m pretty sure so who cares? The point is that no one can see the hack job that I did to your hair…Also, for once, you kinda look like me…with the beanie and the red hoodie…it’s about time I got a Mini Me,” she replied, placing another kiss on his head.

“Beth kinda looks like you.”

“Beth is almost disturbingly your father personality wise. You and I both know that,” Emma chuckled. “And then there’s the conspiracy theory that Har is really a clone gone wrong. And don’t get me started on Neddy…”

Wes merely arched his eyebrows at her in response.

“Sorry,” she chuckled. “Either way, how are we feeling about the beanie?”

“I’m not sure my teachers will let me wear it in school, but yeah. It looks okay. I mean, it’s not bad for a girl beanie.”

“Beanies don’t have genders, but I can talk to your teachers about letting you wear it until your head comes back.”

“Okay. The beanie can stay, but Mom?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not touching my hair ever again.”

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #cs fanfic #little pirates #little pirates fic #my shit #my fic #the delilah affair #wes jones

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arachnexdragoon · 7 years ago

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▲ five time my muse thought about kissing yours, and the one time they did. (Ghost AU)

send me a symbol for…

“Ohmygosh, I could kiss you!”

Aranea realized a bit too late that she had voiced thesethoughts aloud – well, more like her relieved thoughts, and less like carnalthoughts. But at any rate, Ardyn had heard her and he chose to smile and to bowhis head lightly like a true gentleman, showing her the right way for the nextline transfer.

“Well, I suppose it is delightful to be rewarded for a gooddeed.”

“I’m so sorry. I was… Just too happy to see you. I clearlyunderestimated the subway,” Aranea replied with slightly reddened cheeks asthey walked through the crowd of busy-looking salarymen and high schoolstudents, all of them very aware of where they needed to go… Except for Aranea.She had lucked out, really – the closest station to her campus had no romajifor the station names and she ended up buying the wrong ticket and getting lostright after a first transfer in Shibuya.

Shibuya, of all places – well, at least it hadn’t been TokyoStation. Using her newly acquired mobile to phone Ardyn and to beg him torescue had seemed like a good option… Or rather, the only option.

“But if you’re feeling generous, then we could perhaps pick upsomething to eat on the way home.”

“My treat, Izunia-san~.”

II.

“It’s beautiful…” Aranea whispered, her hands open against thewindow and her face as close as she could to the glass without making it foggywith her warm breath. It was the first time it snowed in Tokyo since herarrival – and it looked straight out of a picture, especially considering thebeautiful view offered from Ardyn’s penthouse.

“You mentioned you had never seen snow before, yes?” Ardynqueried, coming to stand right beside her. Aranea was too entranced by the viewoutside to realize that her host didn’t have the same effect to the clear glassand appeared not to breathe, or that his reflection was also not showing up.

“Never. I’m from the southern part of the States, so it rarelysnows… Never got lucky with schools closing up for day and stuff like that,”she mentioned with a smile, but her eyes barely moved from the scenery outside.Ardyn hummed in agreement, hands folding behind his robe as he glanced at hisguest and smiled as well, although for other reasons.

“Have you acquainted yourself with the local lore, Aranea?This weather calls for the yuki-onna, it seems…”

“Snow… Woman?” she translated hesitantly, turning around toface the man and finding out Ardyn looked… Different. Maybe it was the waythe lighting inside was set, but he seemed to be outlined by the lamps, almostas if a faint glow enveloped his form and giving him an ethereal vibe. “What doyou mean?”

“The legend varies, my dear. Each region has its own version,but my personal favorite version is the one of the snow woman that appears whenthe first heavy snow falls, and who comes to steal the vitality and life forceof the men with deadly kisses. They supposedly freeze their victims to death…”

Aranea hadn’t realized she had been staring at his lips untilthey curved into a smirk once more. “Well. Not a bad way to go, yes? A kissfrom a woman in a white scenery like this.”

“No… Not bad at all.” It was also harder to swallow now, butAranea chalked it up to the ghost story.

III.

When Aranea’s skills with the local language advanced enough, shewas able to tell her classmates about the place she was staying at and how herhost looked like. She did notice a couple of her friends made surprisedexpressions at the moment she disclosed the location, but the description ofArdyn changed their stunned expressions into excitement.

“Aranea-chan, that man sounds like a really handsome one!”

She had to giggle – of all the comments she expected, that wasdefinitively the one she thought Japanese girls would be too shy to make, butapparently… They could get really comfortable with you once you made it as afriend, “I kind of… Agree, I think? He probably is old enough to be my dad,Sayuri-chan. Maybe I haven’t been exactly thinking about kissing him…” Or hadshe?

“Oh, that’s not a problem at all. My parents had an arrangedmarriage back at my home town and he was her senior for a lot of years… Still,they are still happily married.”

“I had this friend too, from high school… She used to dateolder men to get expensive gifts from them. Minako would certainly got a lot ofthings from a man like Izunia-san!”

At this point, Aranea wished she had pictures to show them –why was she always forgetting to take pictures of Ardyn? Maybe she could borrowone of the portraits she saw on a bookshelf, he looked like he fancied gettingpictures taken at these places where you dressed up with clothes from bygoneeras – at least the gentlemanly personality matched.

“Look, I’ll bring a picture over and you guys can help me ifit’s super wrong or not, okay?”

Hanae and Sayuri giggled, then exchanged a glance beforeeyeing Aranea again. “Aranea-chan, you’re weird. There’s nothing wrong aboutage.”

IV.

“That is so lame.”

Ardyn merely turned his head around, amber eyes focusing onthe expressions Aranea was making at the movie they were watching. Horrible,cliche horror movies from decades past had become a tradition of sorts at theIzunia household on Friday (the day also seemed to be the best suited one forthat, even if Japan had no issues with that particular day of the week as onethat could bring bad luck). The woman had a glass of wine in one hand and apackage of tiramisu-flavored pocky on he lap – really classy.

“What do you mean, my dear?”

“I mean… Seriously, you’re a girl and you’re driving byyourself, and then the car breaks down. Conveniently close to this big housewhere just this one guy with that eerie vibe about him lives. Of course itstarts to rain and clearly the phone is down, so you have no choice but tosleep at this old bedroom with a 4-poster bed and all that stuff.”

Her host was now outright smiling at her, stealing one of thesweet sticks for himself – Aranea remained amusingly outraged at the lady inthe movie, which was ridiculously ironic given the fact she was in a verysimilar situation herself – despite not knowing it. “This guy is obviously notalive… Or worse. And she is, like, accepting his offer to stay the night!”

At this point, the older man laughed and the sound of hisvoice broke Aranea out of her movie-induced reveries. She locked gazes withArdyn, realizing how she had felt that laugh more than heard it originally,being so close to his body when they were both sharing the couch and how it hadfelt… Nice.

Damn her friends at school, really. And damn Ardyn for beingsmirking and smiling all the time – it was hard to keep her mind off… Certainplaces and certain things when he did that.

“You’re laughing because you’ll never need to ask a strangerman to sleep at his house for one night, right? I know I’m bound to do it oneday, if I’ve learned anything from these movies.”

“Perhaps it won’t be such a ghastly experience, Aranea. Maybeyou’ll even… Come to enjoy…” his hands went for the snack again – or so Araneathought; but then the digits veered into a different direction and brushedagainst her chin, tilting her head up ever so slightly so their eyes could lockand she could feel the soft caress of a thumb over her lower lip, “Theexperience itself.”

Damn.

“…The experience?”

“The experience of spending one night with a strange man.After all, aren’t you living with someone you never thought you’d meet before?”

Oh, that.

“I’d hardly call you a stranger after these months, Ardyn.”

He smiled – again. And Aranea’s pale green eyes followed thattransformation, eagerly and more hungrily than she cared to admit.

“Good to hear that, my dear.”

Karaoke had started out as something meant to help Aranea getused to one of the favorite pastimes of every salaryman in Tokyo, as well aspracticing her Japanese reading skills. But the moment she found out thatalcohol was served and these lovely places were open 24/7, she started to likethem a lot more. The woman had a fidelity card from Big Echo and could nowvirtually greet the staff of the closest unit by name.

It was that bad.

Sometimes, she would go there with school friends; sometimes,she would drag Ardyn. He had a nice voice and he knew a lot of really old,dramatic songs that were wonderfully enhanced by his timbre and it was kind ofamazing to see how he transformed from the moment he picked up the microphone.Aranea was more of the pop songs of the current days, and she tried to stick tothe new singles and releases that played on the radio.

But eventually, drinking made it impossible for her to readeven the basic kanjis and she switched to cheesy and iconic western pop music.As someone who had grown up during the 90s, she knew an embarrassingly hugeamount of Britney Spears songs by heart – and although one could think it didn’tmatch her personality, a drunk Aranea made for a very good dancer and Britneyimpersonator.

Luckily for her, while it wasn’t Vegas, there weren’t camerasin the individual rooms.

‘Break the Ice’ had been her pick, and she had started itnormally enough, barely looking at the screen since she knew it all by heart;instead she used the available furniture as props for her dance moves,eventually landing on her host’s lap while singing: “Let me break the ice / allowme to get you right,” she dipped her head lower then, lips brushing againstArdyn’s ear shell, “But you warm up to me / baby I can make you feel…”

The woman knew, deep down, that she was pushing her luck – butwhen Ardyn responded to her teasing by holding her close and whispering intoher own ear, Aranea dropped the microphone and the song played without anyvoice over for a while – she was too busy staring right into these amber irises.

But the moment he smirked, again, her eyes were drawn downwardsand she actually when groaned when he licked his lips and widened the smile. Itwas official – Ardyn was now tempting her, seeing just how far she was willingto go.

And Aranea maybe would have done it if the phone hadn’t rung,letting them know that their time was up. The girl almost fell to the floorwhile trying to remove herself from her lap, but Ardyn was entirelycomposed as he picked up the phone and announced they were going to be headingdownstairs.

VI.

While winter had been magical in Japan, nothing compared tothe summer – for one, it was way hotter than anything she had experienced backin the US; but the sheer amount of traditions, special foods and fireworksfestival was memorable.

The hanabis were a must-see, Ardyn told her. Something thateveryone took part in and that was well worth the expense of buying a yukata.Aranea did so, and she was really happy to have followed Ardyn’s advice to buyone with a ready-made obi knot – it was fucking hard to do it by herself. Themoment she finished getting dressed and stepped in the living room, she couldswear that her host had stopped breathing for a second.

“You look beautiful, my dear.”

She made a small bow, a smile on her lips for once – well, atleast she could still get him speechless after so many occasions where thereverse thing happened. Ardyn looked really regal in a somber yukata – his darkhair and pale skin made for a striking combo and she was really pleased to seehow mesmerizing they were as soon as they passed a mirrored wall on their wayto the subway.

Their destination was Asakusa – a traditional place for that,Ardyn told her. Aranea was very much her own woman, but she was enjoyingwalking around with their arms linked and buying all the food available at thesmall street stands, as well as laughing at his observations and enjoying thecheerful atmosphere.

She was caught off-guard by the first firework – her hostlaughed at her, but hold her firmly against him and made sure they had a nicespot to watch the hanabi. Aranea spent almost the entire time looking up, inawe of the different colors and shapes – it was nothing like the 4thof July. But eventually she found herself looking to the side, and watching theprofile of her host being illuminated by the fireworks instead.

“I’m afraid you’re missing the spectacle, my dear.”

Of course Ardyn had caught her staring – he had an uncannysixth sense. But in the middle of all these people and considering all themonths they had spent together, Aranea merely smiled in return. This was it –she had enough. She had pondered time and time over this and she had a verdict.

Aranea stood on her tiptoes, tugging at his yukata sleeves toget his attention before pressing their lips together. Ardyn was… Smiling. Thatmuch she could feel, but it was quickly gone in favor of parting his lips andallowing her entrance, indulging Aranea before claiming control of the kisshimself and leaving her breathless at the end, with her heart out of controland the blood drumming in her ears loud enough to override any firework.

“No… The spectacle has just started.”

Predictably, Ardyn smiled – and it was fucking great nothaving to hold back and kissing the infuriating smirks away.

#ardyn #trashkingizunia #five times #meme #i finished iiiit!#it's actually sfw #and consistently makes fun of aranea #hope you like!

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anotherlipstick · 7 years ago

Text

GOODBYE & HELLO Part IV

I woke up to aching muscles and body. I looked beside me and was surprised to find Becca wasn’t next to me. I managed to get to my feet and walk into the kitchen and was relieved to see coffee already made. I poured myself a cup while noticing the time 3:39 in the morning. I then went into the other room where we had our offices.

I almost dropped my coffee as the entire room was a disaster. My books was all piled on the floor with what appeared to be from the file cabnet, several tables and our laptops was missing, and Becca sitting on the floor taking a sip of coffee with sweat pouring off her.

“Is the coffee good? I wasn’t sure how many scoops you put in.” I took a sip and knew she put way to much coffee in. However, I couldn’t recall when she made coffee before and looking at the room strong coffee is what I’m going to need. “It’s tastes fine. How many scoops did you put in?” “I don’t know… six? I couldn’t sleep so I figured I would get started on this so we can hopefully have our room back tonight. The sooner this is cleared out the sooner we can go see about beds. We should go early to make sure they can be delivered today.

I was shocked as I couldn’t believe she was putting so much effort into this. I set my coffee down and walked over to her. "Okay, let’s do this!”

By the time the kids woke up it was going on eight a clock and the room was cleared out. Not only that we found room to set up our computers and tables in the living room though most of my books would have to go out to the garage.

we got the kids ready and went to get breakfast and then shopping for beds for them. we did have Madison’s key but Becca felt it would be to much trouble to move that stuff back and forth especially once she was released. We ended up purchasing two complete beds with matching nightstands and dressers and they was able to deliver and set everything up by three so we would have plenty of time to visit Madison.

——————————————

Just over a month had gone by since we took in Caleb and Mariah. While they did have a few rough nights they seemed to be doing well. They missed their mom and I couldn’t blame them. We went everyday to visit her when Becca got back from Femsational and sometimes we even would go earlier as well.

They had cut her hair do to the chemotherapy and her skin was heavily flaking but otherwise she seemed like she was going to beat this and that made seeing her in this condition a much better. Becca had bought her a wig that looked great on her and got a lock of her hair in a zip-lock bag that we held for her for safe keeping.

Madison was all smiles as we walked in today. “The doctor said my red blood cell count is a lot better. He wants to wait till after my next chemotherapy treatment and then he said I could probably return home.” “That’s wonderful Madison. I’m so happy to hear that.”

We stayed about an hour before heading home again. She was always so full of energy when we first arrived but she would quickly get tired so we would go and let her rest.

I was a bit sad at the news as I had actually gotten use to the kids being with us. We had both had worked so hard on their room and Becca had even put up comic book Superhero’s and Disney princesses all over it. She really had gone all out in it and it looked amazing.

Was it wrong to feel this way? I wasn’t sure but I felt awfully guilty about it. I had often thought about kids but Becca had said several times she had no such desires. Then out of nowhere two amazing children fall in our lap and Becca’s all for it. Maybe it is because of how much she cares about Madison, but it works.

I looked over and could tell Becca was depressed about the idea of giving them up as well. She had been such a different person the past four weeks but now she was moody and snappy a fair amount of the time.

“Hey it’s okay.” I walked over and gave her a hug as we got ready for bed. “ I’ll miss them too, so you’re not alone in this.” Becca just nodded then got into bed without a word. I decided not to push it we’ll see how things go.

—————————————-

Midnight Maiden started playing waking both me and Becca up. I looked at the clock that read a quarter to five. “Who is it?” Becca asked upset. “I don’t know” I looked at the name that listed initials I didn’t reconize. I decided I better answer it just in case. “Hello”

“Hello I’m calling to speak with either MC or Becca. Is one of them available please?” Said the gentleman on the other line. “This is MC, who is this and what is the reason for this call so early?” “I’m apologize ma'am but I’m calling from General Hospital and we have you listed as an emergency contact for A Ms. Madison Eckhart. "Oh yes! I’m so sorry, what can I do for you? is something wrong?”

Becca had rolled over as if asleep so I hit her leg a few times and she sat up. “I’m afraid Ms. Eckhart suffered two large seizures last night nearly right next to each other…” “Oh my god!” “It was a close call but I am pleased to say we did manage to get her stabilized. We’re not really sure of the cause of the seizers but it’s believed to be a reaction to the antibiotics she has been on. We have changed them and hoping that takes care of things. Ms.Eckhart is of course very weak, but is insisting on seeing you and Becca as soon as you’re able.” I looked over at Becca who had a worried look “Wake the kids!”

——————————————

Madison had been moved to the ICU on the 3rd floor. Becca notified the staff with the phone attached next to the door and we heard the buzzing of the door unlock.

Madison was like a ghost from even the day before when we had visited. Her skin looked like it had never seen sunlight and her eyes was sunken in.

What the hell do you say to someone like that? I was a published author yet I couldn’t think of anything appropriate. We definitely need more ways to greet someone besides ‘How are you?’

“Madison….I…” “I want you two to keep the Caleb and Mariah. I don’t trust my family and I don’t want them….” Madison started coughing a few times. Becca filled up her glass with some water and held it for her as she took a few drinks from the straw.

“I don’t want them to go into some foster home and I know…” “You think for one minute we would allow that to happen? Don’t you worry about them at all. Besides, this was just the antibiotics and those have replaced. You are going to be fine so dont be thinking like that!”

Becca could hardly even form the words. She constantly had put her down since we were in college but there was no mistaken how much she cared about her as she kept wiping the tears that flowed. She looked like she was going to fall apart at any moment.

Mariah and Caleb picking up on the tension started crying. Both of them had been wanting to be with their mom and in her shape we couldn’t let them. Before we could use hand sanitizer but now the chance of Madison getting any germs was to much.

“I’m going to take them down to the cafeteria and get them some breakfast. They haven’t eaten yet and I’m sure they’re both hungry. Why don’t you two talk alone for a bit.”

I had got them some oatmeal and Apple juice but both Mariah and Caleb was too upset to eat more than a few bites no matter what I tried. I figured I was probably wearing more than I managed to get them to eat. At least they did drink the juice.

Becca came down after about 40 minutes. I have never seen her look that way. “You want something to eat they didn’t…” Becca shook her head and I decided to drop it. I tossed what was left in the trash and we left.

By the time we got back home the kids had settled down a bit but was now acting hungry. I needed something to do so I figured we would try round two. “I’ll make some eggs and sausage. You should eat too, honey. You had even less than they did.” Becca shook her head. “I’m not hungry. Besides, I have things I need to take care of. "Like what? You should eat and we have things we need to discuss.” “I need to get going!” Becca turned and headed for the door. “Becca!” She didn’t stop. The only reply was the slamming of the door.

#becca #becca x mc #TheSophomore #TheFreshmen

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vitanteactawrites · 7 years ago

Text

Sometimes Two Isn’t Enough, Part IV

Fandom: Supernatural / AU

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel

Pairing: Dean x Reader x Sam

Word Count: 2,281

Part: Four [part one, two, three]

Warnings: None!

Author’s note: Sorry it took so long guys, but here it is! We’ve finally started to dig in a little deeper and discover who the reader is, so enjoy! On a side note, I’m on vacation for a week but plan on taking a good old notebook and pen with me to try and get some stuff done. Next weeks chapter will be a little late, but expect a hunt and more information on who the reader is.

Despite the fact that the gentle lull of the Impala’s engine had put you to sleep, when it cut, you hardly stirred. Which was why your brows furrowed in sleep muddled confusion as fingers dusted hair from your eyes. With a soft grumble, your hand moved to bat away whatever had disturbed you, the other tugging Dean’s borrowed jacket closer to your shoulders. And while your sleep addled brain could hear the deep chuckle, your body still insisted on curling deeper into the soft leather of the back seat, chin nuzzling into the jacket within your grasp.

But the hair in your face was pushed back once more, this time accompanied by a gruff whisper of your name. Upon the realization that someone was going to insist on waking you regardless of any effort you put forth in attempt to avert it, you sleepily opened and squinted your eyes at the figure before you. Only once Dean was firmly in focus did your lips curl slightly.

“Sorry - are we stopping again for the night?”

You could tell that it was late afternoon by the light seeping through the windows of the vehicle, and despite the fact that there were potentially hours’ worth of open road ahead of you, you’d been quick to learn that the Winchesters had been taking you into consideration. You knew little about the past, which made driving for a long distance seem uncomfortable. More than once the three of you had stopped around dinner and stayed put, effectively making your trip to safety a little longer, but also much more comfortable.

“We’re here.”

The two words were enough for any lingering exhaustion to be wiped away and replaced with interest. Scooting across the seat, you carefully exited the Impala, offering Dean his jacket back in the process. You felt… nervous. This was, as Dean had once put it, their home. Or as Sam had put it, home base. Putting two and two together hadn’t been hard. One of them was your soulmate, which meant that this - at least for the time being - would be your home as well. Lacking any real memory, this place was your first home, which made it that much more important and special.

“Where’s Sam?”

“Inside. He figured it shouldn’t take two of us to wake you, so he brought everything in.”

Though your gaze had drifted to look at Dean as he spoke, it didn’t take long for you to offer a soft hum of acceptance at his words, eyes turning to the outside of the bunker. And it wasn’t just the exterior building you took in, but the surrounding woods, the roadway, everything.

You aren’t sure how long you lose yourself in your thoughts, but it’s a gentle brush of knuckles against the back of your hand that has you thrown back into focus. The surprised look you throw Dean is enough to put you both on edge, as he’s quick to withdraw his hand and awkwardly run it up the back of his neck instead.

“We - we better not keep Sam waiting. He might think something got us and send out the search party.”

It’s a poor attempt at a joke, one you mentally kick yourself for immediately, but it propels you toward the first doorway in your sight.

The moment you step into the bunker, your feet draw to an immediate halt - causing Dean to nearly barrel right into you. The scuffling of feet as Dean braces his hand against the rail and carefully steady’s you both is enough to draw Sam’s attention from below. It’s likely the look of complete awe on your features that has the grin of pride and the bubble of laughter escaping his throat.

“I had the same expression when I first saw this place too. Don’t worry, you get used to it.”

He was right, you would get used to it eventually, because this place was going to be your home, which was perhaps the reason you’d stopped and just… stared. They’d built it up to be something because they had memories in this place - they’d established themselves there, and every time they’d spoken of it on the drive, you’d been under the assumption that you’d come to love it because they did. You’d assumed there would be touches of them, but that it would need some of you too - and you were right, it would - but it still seemed perfect.

You weren’t sure when Sam had moved to stand at the bottom of the steps, looking up at you with a small sense of pride shining in his eyes, and that beautiful grin on his face, but once again it was enough to propel you forward.

“I - I know you stumbled upon this place yourselves and have since discovered more about it as time passes but I - may I have a tour?”

It seemed to be the perfect question to ask, because within moments Dean shucked the jacket you’d returned to the back of a chair and the two brothers sprung into action. The three of you moved through each room at the pace you set, and while they provided as much information as they could about each room - whether it be the initial intended purpose of the room, their use of it, or their experience with cases or memories involved in the space, some question always pushed past your lips. Your interest in their home seemed enough for one brother to begin a story or thought, and the other to pick up on it. It was an action you’d believed others might have perceived as rude -- as if they were interrupting one another, but the exchange of looks, of small shrugs and grins was enough to tell you that, while not completely normal, it was something they would accept.

Once you’d returned to the main living space, the walls lined with books and the floor littered with an array of tables and chairs, Dean gave you once last long look before muttering something about cleaning his gun and unpacking. You watched him leave before turning to look at Sam expectantly. Dean had been reluctant, which meant they’d made some sort of deal about spending time with you.

“So these are the books you’ve been telling me all about? The ones filled with lore, and theories… history?” You asked, eyebrow arching slightly.

“Uh- aha ya.” Running a hand over the back of his neck, Sam’s gaze was quick to move from you to the shelves surrounding you.

“I’m not sure I remember, let alone know how to read,” you mutter, brow furrowing slightly in silent question as to whether or not that’s something you should really be ashamed of, “but could you show me some of the books maybe?”

Sometime during your question, your eyes had moved from Sam out of nervousness, instead taking in the lengthy shelves and surrounding area, so when an answer wasn’t offered forth immediately, you nearly cringed. Swallowing the lump of discomfort that was forming in your throat, you dared to look at him. There was a conflicting look on his face, as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to phrase it. Sam was quick to snap out of it, his head dipping into a succession of nods.

“Yeah - yeah uh I’ll show you some of my favorites.” There is a quick flash of a smile, but the hesitation in his eyes was still prevalent. “And if for some reason you can’t read… then I’ll teach you. Just - just like I’m sure Dean would - will - teach you about hunting or cars or whatever else you want to learn.”

Your lips quirked - only slightly - into the smallest of smiles. “Thanks Sam. I’d really appreciate that.”

Time passed after that, but you found it hard to distinguish whether it was flying or creeping by. You were relieved to note that most words on the pages of the books Sam showed you, as well as a select few you pulled out yourself, held real meaning. There were a few you asked for clarification on, some Sam pointed out as being newer, or slang, others even he was uncertain on. At some point during your trek around the large room, Dean had reemerged. Seated within one of the more comfortable of the chairs with his feet propped up and a beer in his hand, he busied himself with looking for cases on the computer. But it wasn’t long before you caught him watch you pursue the endless number of books, his lips quirking into a smile that seemed the vanish the second he caught either you or Sam watching him.

“What’s the most unique book you have?” The question is perhaps the first words that have truly broken the silence within the bunker in the last hour, but they seem much needed. Particularly because of the silent conversation Sam and Dean appear to be having via looks and facial expressions can either be a good, or terribly bad thing.

“Oh. Well, the Men of Letters have a few odd books - but most of them we’ve managed to translate. Kevin, or Castiel can handle most anything we throw at them, but there’s one that neither can crack. Castiel claims it’s older than most Angels.”

You glanced between the two brothers, eyebrow arching slightly.

“And you have this thing here? Can I see it?”

A few minutes later, you were seated at one of the tables, a stone tablet in your hands, and a few thin pieces of parchment beside it.

“We assume someone transferred it from stone to paper a few hundred years ago, but outside of a folder and box with a bunch of question marks, there isn’t much too it.” Sam informed, seating himself opposite you.

You gave him a mildly impressed look before your eyes dropped to the tablet in front of you. Within seconds your brows were crinkling together, a frown tugging at your lips.

“What do you mean Castiel couldn’t read this?” With a glance at the Winchesters, you returned to the papers.

Deans attention waned from the laptop in his lap to looking at you fully, eyebrows arched and beer long forgotten.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, it isn’t that hard to read. It’s about the Daughter of God. It’s pretty vague, but the writer keeps calling this Daughter of God her mother.” You muttered, glancing up.

Before either Winchester can open their mouth to say anything, there is a faint flutter of wings before a man appears at the top of the stairs.

This time, you were certain time slowed. All senses but sight dulled - the sound of the brothers greeting or your chair knocking back as it hit the floor were both vague and distant. The man at the stairs appeared directly in front of you, his seemingly stoic face crinkled in confusion.

“Stay back, Angel.”

The threat ripped from your throat in a near growl, one that seemed to shock the entire room back into motion.

“Y/N. Y/N!” The hands pressing against your arms and then moving to cup your face are what drew you back completely into focus. With reluctance, your eyes ripped from the unidentified man to Dean’s, whose expression was no longer masked but shined bright with worry.

“That’s Castiel, okay? He’s a friend.”

The words ought to have reassured you, but instead your eyes flickered back to look at Castiel, the frown returning to your face.

“Y/N here uh - she can read that tablet.” Sam interjected, clearing his throat awkwardly as a hand motioned over toward the table.

“She is not human.”

Scoffing softly, you gave your head a shake, trying to get around Dean to no avail. “Someone has brilliant observation skills; shall we test out your theory?”

Deans face appeared in front of your almost immediately, his hands leaving your face to grip your arms and direct you back a few steps.

“Y/N. What is with the hostility?”

“You keep telling me that Lucifer - the man who apparently held me against my will and used me against you, the man who I apparently hate to the point of wanting to destroy him - is or was also an Angel at some point or another. You may trust him, but I don’t.”

It was enough for his grip to loosen around you. With a few steps, you were back to where you’d been standing before, eyes narrowing onto the trench coated man as Sam explained who you were, and what you’d found.

“That would explain it. Your presence releases an aura of power, like the essence of God after he leaves a place.” Castiel muttered, gaze turning from the tablet to look at you.

“The Daughter of God is as close to an urban legend as the Angels have. Did the tablet mention who might have transcribed it?”

“Emma.” The reply is as brief as you can make it, and from the tense set of Castiel’s shoulders, you realize he is just as unsettled by your presence as you are his.

“Very well, I’ll return to Heaven and begin the search immediately.”

Without waiting for confirmation, there is a flapping of wings and he is gone. A look is exchanged between yourself and the Winchesters before you sigh and give your head a shake.

“That’s Cas for you.” Sam muttered.

“Come on, I’ll make us some dinner.” Dean replied, turning on his heel to disappear into the kitchen. With one last exchanged look between you and Sam, you offered a shrug and followed Dean.

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